


Illusion

by likeatumbleweed



Series: The Brave and Happy Life of Loki and Sigyn [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Jealousy, Loki Does What He Wants, Love, Parental Interference, Parents & Children, Pregnancy, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 149,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeatumbleweed/pseuds/likeatumbleweed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sigyn has an overprotective brother, an overbearing mother, and an overarching duty to Queen Frigga as her handmaiden. She begins a relationship with Loki, Prince of Asgard and second in line to the throne. It seems easy, but fate has so much more in store for them than they planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaTessitrice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaTessitrice/gifts).



**_Love is the child of illusion and the parent of disillusion. - Miguel de Unamuno_  **

* * *

"What’s this? You’re not still in bed, are you?"

Sigyn had no time to reply before the drapes covering her bedchamber windows were drawn back with force, causing sunlight to spill over her face.

She squinted in the bright light, straining to see the tall figure of her brother as he stood next to the windows. Edmund – dressed head to toe in the heavy layers of metal and cloth that made up his armor - held his helmet under his arm, his brown hair falling around the shoulders of his golden cloak. Even Sigyn had to admit he cut quite the dashing figure as a Royal Guard, and considering the frequency with which he entertained female guests in their shared apartment, she knew she wasn’t the only one. 

Sigyn groaned and burrowed down into the covers, chasing the last bit of darkness in the room. “Go away, Edmund," she said from under the blankets. “The queen has not called me to be at the palace until later…can you not allow me a bit more sleep?" 

She heard his footsteps cross the floor, and was almost convinced he had left her in peace, when the blankets were pulled away from her face. 

"I’m _so_ sorry," Edmund said, sounding anything but. “Her Majesty has requested your presence early. She sent me personally to retrieve you. Now get up." 

This got her attention. Since her appointment to serve the Queen nearly four months prior, Sigyn had been attentive and careful in carrying out her responsibilities, never once earning a cross word or complaint; yet it still terrified her to think that she had made a mistake and missed an assigned duty. 

"Did she say why? Have I done something wrong?" she asked, sitting up quickly and trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. 

"I don’t question the Queen, Sigyn," said Edmund, exasperation in his voice. “When she asks me to do something, I do it.” He walked back to her bedroom door. “Now hurry and we can walk back to the palace together.”  

His tone, as usual, brooked no argument. With a sigh, Sigyn jumped from the bed and pulled on her robe, hastening to ready herself for the day. 

* * *

The palace was bustling with activity when they arrived, the preparations for the Queen’s birthday celebration well under way. Everywhere Sigyn turned, there was movement: fresh flowers were being delivered, food was being prepared, and the banquet hall was being decorated in the jewel tones Queen Frigga favored. 

She and Edmund jostled through the crowd, scarcely managing to avoid knocking over an enormous cake carried by three young men, before reaching the kitchens. Edmund turned to continue down a side corridor toward the guard station, but couldn’t walk away without offering a last bit of unasked-for advice. 

"I know you’ll be at the festivities this evening," he said, eyeing a buxom kitchen maid as she hurried past. “However, as soon as your duties are over, you should return home." 

Sigyn narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. “Why?" 

"Don’t think I haven’t seen the way some of the other guards look at you. They hold themselves in check when I’m around, but get some drink in them and their flattery may cause you to make a decision you will regret in the morning," he said. “I would not appreciate having to defend my little sister’s honor tonight." 

Sigyn sighed, barely repressing the urge to slap the self-righteous smile off his face. “And what of the honor of these maids you so openly ogle?" she asked, just as a group of them walked past, giggling to themselves about what might lay under the armor of a Royal Guard. 

"These women are not my sisters. It’s different." 

"Different. I see," she said, rolling her eyes. “Edmund, you are about as wise to my desires as a wild boar.” Before he could reply and anger her further, Sigyn turned and hurried away, running up the stairs that led to the private wing of the palace and the Queen’s chambers. 

* * *

It had been flattering the first few times one of her brother’s fellow sentries had flirted with her. One of them, named Völund, had been determined in his pursuit of her, showering her with gifts and declarations of love, until one night she gave in to his advances. Not entirely inexperienced, she had expected at least a soft bed behind her back; he had instead taken her against the wall of an empty stall in the royal stables, her dress bunched around her waist and the stench of horse manure overpowering the perfume she had worn for the occasion.

Their coupling was far too quick and messy to leave them both satisfied. Later, alone in her own bed, she cried into her pillow as she brought herself release with her own hands, swearing she would never permit herself to be with such an inattentive brute of a lover again. 

She had never mentioned her tryst with Völund to Edmund, not wanting to hear his disapproval. For his part, Völund had also remained blessedly silent, preferring to move on to a voluptuous blonde seamstress, so different from Sigyn in every way – especially in her willingness to part her legs for him more than once. 

From that point on, she lost all interest in the attentions of the other guards. Her mother loved to continually remind her that Sigyn’s position as the queen’s handmaiden was ideal for finding a suitable husband, but the intellectual abilities of most of the men she met left too much to be desired. They were almost all rough and humorless, and while most Asgardian women found that desirable enough, it was more than just physical power that Sigyn found attractive. 

What truly stimulated her was a man with intellect, whose mind was sharp and focused – a man of piercing wit and charm, who didn’t relegate good conversation to “a woman’s hobby", to use Völund’s unfortunate turn of phrase. 

A man exactly like Prince Loki. 

* * *

In the time she had served the Queen, Sigyn had begun to admire the younger prince from afar, never doing more than smiling at him if she happened to catch his eye or offering a kind word or two when the occasion arose. He was so different from his boisterous older brother; where Thor was loud and brash, Loki was reserved and thoughtful. It fascinated Sigyn to see how dissimilar the brothers could be, and yet still have such a fierce love for one another. 

To everyone in Asgard, it was obvious that Queen Frigga loved both of her sons dearly, but being privy to the more private behavior of the queen revealed to Sigyn that she had a particularly strong bond with Loki. Nearly every day when she arrived for her duties, she found him with his mother, deep in conversation about every topic imaginable: art, architecture, food, it didn’t matter. Like the queen, he was well-versed in everything.  

Sigyn had taken to eavesdropping on their conversations as discreetly as she could, noticing that he never mentioned having a lover, male  _or_  female, which she found curious but encouraging. She made note of Loki’s favorite topics as well, so she could study them on her own time. 

Once, her newfound knowledge had given her the nerve to interject a witty remark into their discussion about the culinary styles of Alfheim, and she was rewarded with an appreciative laugh from the prince. Thrilled that she hadn’t completely embarrassed herself, she spent the remainder of that day in a happy daze, the music of his laughter replaying over and over again in her head as she went about her duties. 

Sigyn had put Edmund’s nonsense entirely out of her mind by the time she reached the queen’s chambers. She entered as quietly as possible, finding Queen Frigga seated at her small writing table. Just as she had hoped, Loki was there visiting with her, leaning against the wall as his hands excitedly emphasized every word he said. Sigyn approached them slowly, trying not to be obvious as she took in the sight of him. 

He was dressed in his usual dark attire, black tunic and dark green breeches with tall black boots. On anyone else, it would have looked harsh and forbidding, but on Loki it was visually striking. He was all long limbs and graceful bearing, so different from the typical Asgardian male. His pale skin, angular features, and astonishing green eyes were all set off by a frame of hair the same ebony hue as his clothing. While she watched, the queen said something that he found funny, and when he smiled Sigyn was struck yet again by how stunning he was. 

She lost herself for a moment, holding her gaze an instant too long, just long enough for Loki to look up from their conversation and directly at her. She dropped her eyes immediately, smoothing out imagined wrinkles in the front of her dress, trying desperately to take the attention off the blush burning on her cheeks. 

"Your Majesty," she managed to say, her voice cracking with embarrassment. “You sent for me?" 

"Ah, Sigyn!" she replied. “Forgive me for calling you in earlier than planned. I was becoming a little overwhelmed with preparations for this evening when Loki suggested I call you in to help." 

At this revelation, Sigyn glanced at the prince. Loki was still staring at her, the look on his face unreadable. Her heart rose to her throat and she swallowed hard, trying to calm her sudden nerves. She hadn’t even been sure that he knew her name. 

"I was just preparing a list of things I need for you to see to before this evening," continued the queen, standing up from her chair and handing Sigyn a sheet of parchment. “Right now I need to go and take care of some last minute details about this evening’s meal, but if you have any questions I will return soon." She started in the direction of the door, turning back after a few steps to ask Loki if he could accompany her. 

"If you’ll give me just a moment, Mother, I need to look at your books. There is a volume I have been intending to borrow," he said, pointedly looking in Sigyn’s direction. “Don’t wait for me - I’ll catch up shortly." 

Sigyn could hear the queen’s footsteps as she left, and was suddenly and terribly aware that she and the prince were alone. She looked at the list the queen had given her, reading the same lines again and again in an attempt to look occupied. 

Sneaking a sidelong glimpse at Loki, Sigyn watched as he walked to the bookshelf nearest to him and removed the first book he came to, not even bothering to read the spine. 

"Sigyn," he said, and her name on his lips put a knot in her stomach. “You think you have slipped my notice. I assure you, you have not." He turned to face her, the intensity in his eyes emphasizing every word. Sigyn couldn’t look away. 

He approached her, his footsteps slow but determined. “I do hope I haven’t misinterpreted your behavior. You seem quite eager for my attention." 

Sigyn’s mouth went dry as he neared her. She found herself unable to form a coherent thought that didn’t involve doing unspeakable things with the prince in his bedchambers, and she was terrified he would see it in her eyes and deem her no more than a desperate trollop. 

She swallowed thickly, attempting to regain her composure. “I have only ever hoped that you would not find me intolerable, Your Highness; nothing more. It would be foolish of me to wish otherwise." 

He stopped within arm’s reach of her. “I have suffered many fools in my life, Sigyn. I don’t believe I would count you among them." 

"That’s very flattering," she said. “But, you barely know me." 

"I know more than you think. And I would get to know you better, if you would allow it." 

 _Allow it?_  “I would certainly be in no position to deny you what you want, Your Highness." Sigyn regretted the words immediately; she hadn’t intended for them to sound so indecent. Her hand flexed in mortification, crumpling the edge of the parchment she held. 

"What I want?" Loki smiled at her. It was not quite a leer, but the knot in her stomach intensified at the sight of it. “What I want from you is just some of your time. Tonight, at the celebration – a chance to talk and see if my suspicions about you are true." 

"Your suspicions?" 

He closed the distance between them, and started to pass her, stopping when they were shoulder to shoulder. He leaned in, until he was close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek as he spoke. “I suspect that you would be well worth getting to know more… _intimately_." 

Sigyn’s eyes widened and she shuddered in a breath. “Your Highn-," she began, spinning to face him, but her words faded on her tongue. He had vanished, leaving her alone in an otherwise empty room with only her heart hammering in her chest and her increasingly lewd thoughts to keep her company. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story begins in almost exactly the same way as my one-shot Awakening, but veers from that storyline fairly quickly. That was a contest entry that was limited to 3000 words - but that wasn't nearly enough to tell the story that my mind conjured. :) So - Illusion was born. :) 
> 
> I know next to NOTHING about the Sigyn from the comics, and just the basics about her mythological counterpart, so in a lot of ways, this Sigyn could almost be treated as an original character. It was truly just easier for me to use her name than anything else. Please don't hate on me for it. :)
> 
> Many, many thanks to my amazing beta LaTessitrice for helping me with my vision (and my grammar). :)


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Queen Frigga returned to her chambers, Sigyn had composed herself and was fully absorbed in her duties. She kept her mind focused on her work and her service to the Queen, and the day went by quickly. 

No mention was made of Loki and what they may have discussed, the Queen only alluding to any knowledge she held by suggesting that Sigyn wear her hair up that evening. “You have such a lovely face, dear; you should not obstruct it. There are those who look upon you with great interest.” 

Having rushed to prepare herself that morning, Sigyn was thankful for the chance to go back home and freshen up for the evening’s festivities after her duties were complete. While she would still be expected to serve the Queen for a time at the celebration, she would also be allowed time to enjoy herself on her own. She wanted to be sure and look her best. 

She opened the door to her apartment to find her mother waiting for her.

"Sigyn!" Dagmar stood up from the dining table, a necklace in one hand and matching earrings in the other. “I brought some of my best jewels for you to wear tonight," she said, holding the earrings up for Sigyn’s inspection. “I was going to save these for your wedding day, but…" Her words trailed off, the unspoken thoughts of  _I fear that will never happen_  all too clear in her eyes. “We need to make sure you look presentable. There will be so many eligible bachelors there tonight - we cannot afford to lose  _any_  opportunity to catch their attentions." 

Her frame favoring more of her father’s heritage, Sigyn stood taller than her mother by several inches; yet Dagmar’s imposing presence and commanding personality continued to have the effect of making Sigyn feel as though she was no more than a small child. 

Sigyn and Edmund’s father Ari, a minor Asgardian noble and ambassador, had died a few years prior, a casualty of a disastrous diplomatic mission to Niðavellir. Since that time, their mother had pinned all of her hopes for Sigyn on her finding a wealthy husband, the higher in society the better. 

"Mother, do you not trust me to be able to groom myself?" said Sigyn. She loved her mother dearly, and she knew Dagmar meant well, but her constant interfering was exhausting.  

"Of course I do," said Dagmar, brushing some stray lint off the sleeve of Sigyn’s dress and fussing over her hair, her mannerisms giving the lie to her words. “I just thought you might perhaps like the advice of a female for a night as important as this. Edmund is not one to turn to for suggestions on clothing, you know." 

Edmund would have insisted that Sigyn wear her most unflattering dress in the hopes of discouraging attention, as shielding as he was. Her mother and brother’s contradictory opinions regarding Sigyn’s romantic life were quite an ongoing source of frustration. 

_If things go well this evening_ , thought Sigyn,  _perhaps they will both have reason to leave me to my own affairs._  

Sigyn walked to her room, her mother following so closely behind she would have run into her had she stopped short. Peering into her wardrobe, she decided on a blue dress she hadn’t worn in a while, one that she felt emphasized all of her best features. 

"Oh, that one is lovely dear. It matches your eyes so well. Now come - let us get you prepared." 

Sigyn allowed her mother to draw her a bath, but shooed her out of the bathroom so she could soak in peace. She sank into the water, letting her mind wander to her earlier conversation with the prince. 

_I suspect that you would be well worth getting to know more…intimately_ , he had said, and she flushed at the memory. Had he merely been playing with her, hoping to intimidate her? And if so, to what end? He had quite the reputation in Asgard for trickery and deception, but Sigyn didn’t know how many of the rumors were true. He had certainly _seemed_ sincere enough. 

It was enough to drive her mad. Mad with confusion, frustration, and above all, overwhelming desire. 

That she desired him wasn’t even a question. It was the  _why_ that concerned her. Was it because her last - admittedly disastrous - encounter had been so long ago? Or was her mother’s insistence on finding a highly placed husband clouding her judgment, causing her to desperately look for a connection that wasn’t there? She would know the answer soon enough, but it still bothered her to think her mother might be proved right. 

A sharp knock on the door drew her from her thoughts; she had been in much longer than she thought, the water having turned lukewarm and her skin puckered like a raisin. 

"Sigyn, we need to finish getting you ready." 

"Just a moment, Mother." Dagmar’s insistence on using the term ‘we’ in their conversations was exasperating. She spoke as if they were both being trotted out as potential trophies to willing suitors. 

In fact, Sigyn didn’t understand why her mother didn’t try to find another husband for herself. There had been a customary mourning period after Sigyn’s father died, but that had ended long ago. Dagmar would certainly not have been looked upon unfavorably by society had she chosen to remarry. But instead, she had focused all of her attention on Sigyn’s future rather than her own. 

Dagmar had never even asked Sigyn if she  _wanted_  to settle down, assuming that like most Asgardian women, finding a husband and bearing children were at the forefront of her mind. Sigyn had instead always dreamed of furthering her education, perhaps even becoming a diplomat as her father had been. But with every day that passed, those dreams seemed less and less likely to ever come to fruition. 

Sigyn took a deep breath and stepped from the bath. She dressed quickly, sitting on the sofa to allow her mother to comb through her hair. Her mother suggested she wear it down -  _it looks so lovely around your shoulders dearest_  - but Sigyn convinced her to pin it up, insisting that it was best to keep it out of her way as she went about her duties. 

She kept the news of her conversation with Prince Loki to herself. Sigyn was not ready for her mother to have that information quite yet.  Her relationship with the prince was tenuous at best, and she wanted to protect it. Her mother could wait a little longer; if Dagmar had even the _slightest_ hint that one of the royal sons had expressed interest in her daughter, she wouldn’t be able to contain her excitement, potentially ruining anything before it even began. 

* * *

Loki could hear Thor’s thunderous footsteps long before they reached the door to his chambers. In a battle, his brother’s inability to quietly slink anywhere caused Loki much distress; at home however, he was grateful for it. He wasn’t fond of surprises. 

As usual, Thor entered without knocking. 

"Mother’s birthday celebration is tonight, and here you are, nose in your books. Why am I not surprised?" 

"Hello, Thor. Yes, please, do come in," said Loki, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Thor stalked into the room unabated; his complete lack of guile made it difficult for him to recognize mockery, even when it was aimed squarely at him. 

"You would do well to at least open the curtains," said Thor, doing exactly that. “It is as dark as a cave in here. Soon, children will scuttle from you as they would a troll." 

"Perhaps I should make my home under the Bifröst, demanding payment from those who wish to pass," said Loki, half under his breath. He had yet to lift his eyes from his book of spells, hoping his brother would take the hint and leave him to his studies. With the celebration preparations, he’d had precious little time to himself. 

Once it was obvious that Thor had no intention of leaving, Loki looked up. “What do you want, Thor?"  

Thor walked over to the desk, unceremoniously grabbing the book from Loki’s hands. “I have just heard the most amazing news about you, and I’m here to confirm it for myself." 

Loki gritted his teeth and leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out onto the surface of his desk. “Have you now? I can’t imagine what you have been told about _me_ that would have you so worked up," he said, folding his arms across his chest. 

"I’ve just come from visiting with Mother, and she told me that you have expressed interest in courting her handmaiden Sigyn," said Thor, his face splitting into a wide smile as he leaned onto the desk, looking down at his little brother. 

"Is that so?" said Loki, his face a mask of indifference, even as he silently cursed his mother’s lack of discretion. 

"I was beginning to believe you had forgotten just how warm a woman can be compared to the books you sleep with every night," said Thor, indicating the volumes of works covering every available surface of Loki’s’ chambers. “Or perhaps that you had forsaken women all together." 

Loki bristled. “I’ll thank you to keep your opinions about my lack of companionship to yourself, brother." 

"I meant no offense," said Thor, plopping himself down onto the sofa at the foot of Loki’s bed. “I just worry about you. I want you to be happy." 

"And why would you assume I’m _not_?" 

"Well,  _I_  certainly wouldn’t be if I’d gone as long as you have without a proper fu-" 

"By the Nine!” said Loki, halting him before he could finish. “Why is everyone so concerned about my bed and whom I share it with?" 

“I believe I’ve touched a nerve,” said Thor, flipping idly through the spell book he had taken from Loki and having no luck understanding the contents. Frustrated, he snapped it shut, pointing it at his brother to punctuate his words. “Perhaps a night with a young maiden is just the thing you need to cure your foul temper." 

"Perhaps you leaving my chambers would work faster," said Loki. “I have work to do Thor, and you are keeping me from it." Removing his feet from his desk, he picked up another spell book and opened it to a well-worn page, earmarked and covered in handwritten notes. 

"So, you do not deny it then?" 

"Deny what?" said Loki, his eyes never leaving the page of the book. 

"Mother’s handmaiden! Have you not been paying attention to this conversation at all?" 

Loki set his book down with a sigh and turned to Thor. “I do not deny it. Now will you leave me in peace?" 

"That is wonderful!" said Thor, completely ignoring Loki’s request. “She is quite lovely. Smart, too. Perhaps less  _voluptuous_  than I would prefer…" 

“ _Your_  preferences are irrelevant," said Loki, cutting him off. “Besides, does Sif know of your predilection for chesty women?" 

"You do not know what lies under Sif’s armor, Loki. It hides more than you think." 

"You can keep the details to yourself,” said Loki, unable to suppress a small grin even as he rolled his eyes. He fingered the edge of his book nervously, letting the silence drag out before he spoke again. “Thor, you know I value your opinion above all others." 

"And I yours, brother." 

Loki took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. “Do you think it unwise of me to pursue her?" 

Thor leaned forward from his seat and looked Loki directly in the eyes, disarmed by his sudden show of vulnerability. “Does she make you happy?"

"I don’t know. But she intrigues me, and that makes me hopeful." 

Thor stood, walking around to Loki’s side of the desk to clap him on the shoulder. “Then I will happily bless your union, and pray that the fruit of your loins be abundant." 

Loki shook his head, shrugging Thor’s hand away. “Let’s not plan a wedding just yet, Thor. Now if you don’t mind, I _would_ like to get some work done before this evening," returning to his book. “You can see yourself out." 

With a quick motion from his hand, Loki opened the door to his chambers from across the room. Thor finally took the hint and left without another word, smiling once more in that way Loki had always hated and admired in equal measure. 

It was a relief that he hadn’t needed to resort to more drastic measures to make Thor leave. Once, he had pressed Loki’s patience too far, causing Loki to use a fairly powerful spell to transport him to the women’s bathhouse. Loki didn’t want to explain something like that to their parents ever again. 

After his brother’s visit, Loki tried his best to continue his studies, but gave up fairly quickly. Studying spells required every bit of concentration he had, and he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering after Thor left.

Wandering to thoughts of Sigyn. 

* * *

His mother had employed beautiful handmaidens before, but few of them had ever held Loki’s attention. Even when they had, they were almost never interested in the smaller, more studious brother when brawny and brash Thor was around. 

Even Sigyn, for all her physical charms, may never have garnered a second glance if he hadn’t spied on her. 

It was something he did with all of his mother’s handmaidens at least once, per her request. She wanted to be sure none of them were taking advantage of her, and so naturally she asked Loki for his help. His mastery of concealment, something that served him so well in battle, could be used to ferret out anyone wishing to do her harm. 

And so, when the queen had asked him once again for his assistance after Sigyn’s appointment, he had done so without hesitation. 

Almost all of his mother’s prior handmaidens, when left unchecked, would quietly poke around when the queen was not there, admiring her clothing, perhaps even her jewelry if they were bold. Loki had only ever caught one of them trying to take anything, and she was quickly and decisively replaced, never the wiser as to how she had been discovered. 

But it was different with Sigyn. When Loki spied on her, what he saw fascinated him. 

He found her to be a hard worker, diligent in her job and her service to his mother, just as he had hoped. But occasionally, when the opportunity arose and she was unsupervised, she would browse the books in the Queen’s collection. She never asked to borrow any of them, instead relying on discreetly placed bookmarks and stolen moments to read them, slowly but methodically. 

Never once had any of his mother’s previous handmaidens even bothered to look at her extensive collection of books. The fact that Sigyn not only looked, but  _studied_  them, awoke something in Loki - something that had lain dormant in him for so long he’d nearly thought it extinguished. 

Loath as Loki was to admit it, Thor was correct when he surmised that his brother had been without a lover for quite some time. Fandral had even thought to make a joke at Loki’s expense once, suggesting to Thor that maybe the younger prince was more interested in horses than women when he thought he was out of earshot. Loki knew he shouldn’t have been offended by his words - it was  _Fandral_  of all people, a man who had quite likely bedded half the women in the palace court - but they stung all the same. 

Had he wanted to, Loki would have had no trouble finding someone to warm his bed at night. There was hardly a woman in Asgard who would turn down an opportunity to sleep with one of the princes, no matter what type of bedmate she preferred. 

However, the truth was that Loki had lost interest in courting women who lacked curiosity and intellect - the very qualities that Sigyn seemed to have in abundance. He had to know more about her, so he began to visit his mother - and by extension, Sigyn - every chance he had. 

Loki noticed immediately that his interest in her seemed to be reciprocated. She listened intently to his conversations with his mother, trying not to be intrusive as she went about her duties. He would frequently catch her watching him when she thought he wasn’t looking, the blush on her cheeks giving her away every time. 

Over the years, Loki had become adept at hiding his feelings when he wanted to, but he found it nearly impossible to deceive his mother. He knew Frigga loved his visits, but the fact that the frequency of those visits had increased dramatically after Sigyn’s appointment did not escape her notice. 

That morning, when he had suggested calling Sigyn in early, his mother had at last cornered him about his intentions. 

“Loki, do you remember the names of any of my _former_ handmaidens?”

“No…but I hardly see how that’s relevant –“

“And yet you know _Sigyn’s_ name.”

“Yes,” he said, his tone cautious. “What exactly are you implying?” _  
_

“You are my son, and in some ways I know you better than you know yourself. When Sigyn is here, your eyes are filled with such longing it makes my heart hurt.  If you wish to court her, I would not oppose it...and I would wager the throne of Asgard itself that neither would she.” 

Sigyn had appeared shortly after, and his mother had presented him with the perfect opportunity to speak to her alone. He would never have gone against his mother’s wishes had she disapproved, but her encouragement had emboldened him. Loki had tested Sigyn, using both his physical presence and his language to deliberately provoke a reaction in her, and she had not disappointed. 

Though dishonesty came as easily to him as breathing, Loki had been absolutely truthful when he told Sigyn that he was very much looking forward to getting to know her more intimately…in every sense of the word. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dagmar would have been well within her rights to attend Queen Frigga’s celebration, but after much begging from Sigyn, she agreed to go back home instead. The last thing Sigyn wanted was for her mother to be at the festivities, shadowing her every move and generally making her more nervous than she already was.

Sigyn made her way back to the palace, going directly to the queen’s chambers to help her finish getting ready for the evening. Prince Thor had been on his way from visiting with his mother and had passed her in the corridor, nodding and smiling at her in a way that suggested he held some secret knowledge. It did nothing to alleviate her anxiety.

After finishing with the queen’s preparations, Sigyn went ahead to the banquet hall to make sure things were on schedule. Time slowed to a crawl, and before long, she found herself retracing her steps, repeatedly checking the same details in an attempt to keep busy.  

At last, just before the royal family was scheduled to arrive, Sigyn made her way to the front of the crowd. She wanted the queen to be able to find her right away if she needed her assistance; however, she also wanted an unobstructed view of Prince Loki. She smoothed her hands over her dress nervously while she waited, willing herself to take slow and even breaths.

The sentinels guarding the door stepped aside, and the royal family was announced. The queen came through on the arm of her husband the King, their two sons on either side of them, all of them resplendent in their ceremonial attire.

To the right of the King was Prince Thor, his silver armor shining brightly against the dark blue of his clothing. Along with his royal bearing and infectious smile, his long red cape and winged helmet made him look every inch the crown prince he was. Sigyn thought to herself that when the day came and he settled into his birthright, he was likely going to surpass his father in popularity.

Yet for all of Thor’s charisma, Sigyn’s attention was drawn to Prince Loki, standing mere steps away to the left of his mother. It was the first time Sigyn had ever seen him up close in his formal armor. He looked glorious, the black and green of his clothing and cape contrasting sharply with the warm gold of his armor. His attire alone served to enhance his imposing presence; however, it was his helmet, with its wickedly curved horns adding to his already commanding height, which took her breath away.

If Thor could be compared to the daylight, warm and radiant, then Loki - Thor’s counterpoint and opposite in every way - would certainly be the night. But the night had always been magical to Sigyn. It had a different sort of glow, cool and comforting. The night was full of secrets - and Sigyn wished to learn every one.

Loki turned his head, his eyes scanning the crowd, until he found her. He smiled, and Sigyn wondered what his mouth would feel like on hers, and if she would find out soon. Her heart jolted at the thought.

The royal family made their way to a table on a dais at the front of the room. Sigyn was seated directly in front of the platform with other palace staff, handmaidens and menservants who like her, were from minor noble families. A few times, she attempted to talk to her tablemates, but she was too distracted to keep up with their conversations for any length of time.

If she hadn’t known better, she would have guessed that Loki had arranged for her seat to be facing him directly. Every time she raised her eyes his direction, he was looking her way, smiling but enigmatic. She felt as though he was studying her, and could only hope that he approved of what he saw.

Soon, the meal was over, and the tables were cleared and moved away to leave the middle of the hall open. Musicians appeared at the edge of the room, and the crowd made its way to the center to mingle and dance.

Sigyn watched as Loki made his way through the crowd. He had a quiet way about him, charming and polite. Men and women alike were enthralled by him, and it was clear to Sigyn that when Thor became king, Loki would be his most trusted advisor, able to handle the diplomacy and tact that Thor couldn’t manage on his own.

No matter where she went in the room, Loki was never far away; his movement shadowed hers, the guests with whom he chose to visit always in close proximity to her location. Not for the first time, she wondered if his interest in her was all just a game to him, if she was just another piece to be played with and discarded once the game had concluded. But she knew she could no sooner stop playing than she could stop breathing.

She was invested now, and would see this game through to its inevitable conclusion, whatever it might be.

* * *

From the moment Loki had arrived with his family and found Sigyn in the crowd, he had been utterly captivated.

She was stunning, her soft brown hair pinned up and her dress – one he’d never seen her wear before - accentuating every curve of her body. The sight of her had warmed him up considerably, and he was thrilled when he was finally able to remove his helmet when the food was served.

At the meal, Thor noticed that Loki’s food remained barely touched.

"You should eat, Loki," he said. “You will need your energy later."

"What do you mean?" said Loki with a sigh, picking at his food. He knew exactly what Thor meant. Subtlety had never been Thor’s greatest strength.

"Your eyes haven’t left her all evening," said Thor, gesturing Sigyn’s direction with his fork. “Do you not wish to bed her?"

Loki hissed through his teeth. “Must you always be so crass?" was his only reply, even as his thoughts went to Sigyn’s dress and how lovely it would look on his bedchamber floor. 

Loki was certain Sigyn would not deny him if he asked her to spend the night with him; however, the desire he felt for her was more than merely physical. She deserved to be courted properly, and he intended to do just that.

But first, he had to make it through this interminable celebration.

As intensely as Loki wanted to find Sigyn and whisk her away, his duties as a prince had to come first. Once the meal was over and the tables cleared away, Loki made his way through the crowd, mingling and cajoling the guests with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

Even as he endured yet another lengthy diatribe from a diplomat about some issue on Muspelheim – or was it Vanaheim? Loki couldn’t remember - he kept Sigyn in his sights, waiting patiently for a chance to pull her aside and escape the crowd.

As soon as he could, Loki excused himself from his guest’s company and made his way to a table near the back of the room. His patience had run thin. If the opportunity to get to Sigyn was not going to present itself, he would just have to take matters into his own hands.

* * *

Edmund had Sigyn cornered by a table at the edge of the room, trying his best to persuade her to go home, and she was certain that Prince Loki would choose this exact moment to come find her. Sigyn wasn’t sure that Edmund would be able to keep it from their mother if he started to suspect anything.

"It’s getting late. Surely the queen is finished with your services for the evening?"

"I’m sorry, but she has asked me to stay for a while longer," said Sigyn. “Only until she retires for the evening."  She almost felt bad for lying to Edmund with such ease, but the memory of Loki’s breath on her cheek allowed her to push her hesitation aside.

"Well, at least Mother isn’t here," replied Edmund. “I know you hate these functions, with her putting you on display like a prized pony."

"I do enjoy myself a bit more when no one is around to direct my every move," she said, hoping he would take the hint. She glanced around, afraid that she would see the prince approaching at any moment.

Edmund remained where he was, so she took his arm, turning him the other direction to encourage him to leave.

“What’s got into you, Sigyn? You’re acting very strange.”

She forced a smile. “No man will be brave enough to approach me with you hovering, you know. Isn’t there some young maiden waiting for you somewhere?"

"Now that you mention it, I do see someone who needs my attention," he said, an impish smirk on his face. He began to hurry off in the direction of the kitchens, turning back to Sigyn one last time after a few steps. “Just, please, don’t stay out too late. I worry about you, you know."

"Yes, yes. Now go!"  

As she watched Edmund dash away, she looked through the crowd, searching the guests for a flash of dark hair, a glint of warm metal, anything at all, but she came up empty. He had disappeared as surely as he had in the queen’s chambers that morning.

He had been so close all evening, and now he was nowhere to be found. She sighed, mentally chastising herself. _Of course he’s gone Sigyn. He must have seen enough of you to realize his mistake. It doesn’t matter what he said - you_ are _a fool to think he would want to spend time with you._

A member of the kitchen staff passed her carrying a tray of wine, and she grabbed a glass off of it before he was out of reach. She downed it in two great gulps, wincing at the bitterness in her throat, before setting the glass on the nearest table.

She would need to find the queen and make her excuses first, but Sigyn suddenly wanted nothing more at that moment than to go home, go to bed, and forget her silly fantasies.

She started toward the part of the room where she had seen the queen last, when a bright light flashed from a table at the back of the room, followed quickly by another, and then several more.

Tiny fireworks in every color imaginable lit up the air around the queen’s cake, illuminating the faces of the crowd. Every person in the room turned that direction, gasping with surprise and delight. Sigyn was just about to make her way toward it, when a hand on her elbow stopped her.

"Sigyn."

Her heart suddenly in her throat, she turned to the sound of her name, the voice in her ears the same one that had replayed in her mind since that morning.

"My mother has no more need of you this evening," said Prince Loki, holding his arm out to her. “Will you walk with me?"

"Of course, Your Highness," she said with a smile, before taking Loki’s arm and allowing him to escort her out a door at the side of the hall and into the royal gardens.

* * *

"Those fireworks," said Sigyn as they entered a grove of apple trees. “Was that you?"

"Yes," said Loki, his face beaming with pride. “I have been impatiently waiting all night to spend time with you. If I had to listen to one more long-winded diplomat prattle on, I was going to go mad."

She didn’t know if it was the wine she had consumed or the fact that she was walking arm in arm with the prince - it was almost certainly a bit of both - but Sigyn’s mind had begun to buzz pleasantly. She couldn’t help but grin at him, hoping that she didn’t look too idiotic.

"When you vanished this morning, I was afraid I had dreamed our conversation," she said. She hated the way her words made her sound desperate, but the alcohol’s effect on her head had loosened her tongue.

"This is no dream," he said, smiling back at her. “And if it is, I do not wish to be awakened."

They began to turn a corner, when a familiar voice caught Sigyn’s attention. Before they were able to step from the shadows she stopped, pulling the prince back and allowing the dark to hide the two of them a moment longer.

She risked a peek around the turn, finding her brother Edmund with a maiden giggling at his side. Sigyn recognized her as the well-endowed kitchen maid that had passed the two of them in the corridor earlier in the day. He whispered into the maid’s ear, and the blush she sprouted, evident even in the dim light, told Sigyn that his intentions were far from innocent.

"Ah, young lovers in the garden," said Loki. “But why have you stopped? Surely you don’t mean to watch them."

"No!" said Sigyn, a bit too forcefully. She took a deep breath. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but that is my brother. I cannot allow him to see us."

"Why not?" Loki asked, his brows knitting together. “Are you ashamed to be seen with me?" He looked genuinely offended by the very idea.

"Oh no! It’s not that at all,” said Sigyn, desperate to explain. “It’s just…well, my brother is very…overprotective. He would never allow us to pass without a disapproving comment to me later."

"You certainly appear to be a grown adult," said Loki, standing back and looking her over in a manner that made her feel as though he could see right through her dress. “Do you always give your brother so much authority over you and your choices?"

Sigyn opened her mouth to reply, only to snap it shut again. The prince was right; she had never thought twice about letting her brother hold such sway over her. For someone else to point out the obvious - especially someone she wanted to impress so badly - made her feel foolish.

She stole a look around the corner again, just in time to see Edmund and his prize make their way behind a stand of tall rose bushes, his hands deftly beginning to unlace the front of her dress.

Loki watched them before turning to Sigyn in disbelief. “He seeks to control _you_ , yet he chooses to satisfy his own lust in the gardens of the palace. That doesn’t seem fair, does it?" His eyes narrowed just a bit, a small smile playing at his lips. “How about we have a bit of fun at his expense?"

"Oh, no Your Highness, I couldn’t-" Sigyn began to protest, swallowing the last of her words when the prince leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It was the smallest of kisses, as chaste as one shared between children, but she was struck dumb. He pulled away, far too soon for her liking, and she darted her tongue out to taste her lips.

"There, I think we are familiar enough now. Please, just call me Loki."

"Yes, Your High-", she started, catching herself. “Sorry. _Loki_.”

"That’s much better, wouldn’t you agree?”

She nodded slowly, her mind a pleasant fog. She didn’t know which felt better on her mouth, his lips or his name. She would need to test them both again – and at length – to be sure.

“Sigyn, I too have an older brother who would condemn me to a life of his rules if I allowed it. Let me show you how it feels to take for yourself some of the control you have always wanted."

He stepped behind her, hands on her shoulders to turn her toward the bushes. Reaching around her, he raised his hand, splaying fingers that had taken on a ghostly green hue. Without warning, he dropped his hand sharply toward the ground, and every last leaf and petal on the bushes disintegrated…leaving Edmund and his now topless companion completely exposed behind the bare branches. 

Their shouts of surprise and indignation were lost behind them as Loki took her by the hand with a grin, quickly leading her down the nearest path.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Loki couldn’t remember the last time he had asked a woman to call him by his name.

The formality of his title had always been an excellent way to shield himself, to remain distant and aloof - to keep from getting too close to someone. He had taken partners to bed who never had the privilege of calling him anything other than Your Highness. 

So he had surprised himself when he asked Sigyn to call him Loki. He had desperately wanted to hear it from her lips, and it had sounded just as lovely as he thought it would. Just watching her sound it out, her pink tongue touching her upper teeth to pronounce the first syllable, excited him. 

He wanted her to say it over and over, to whisper it in his ear, to scream it to the heavens until she was breathless.  _Patience_.  _All in good time_. 

He asked if Sigyn had liked the meal, and she admitted that she had barely eaten. 

“I confess, I have been nervous all day,” she said. “Ever since you spoke to me this morning. Ever since you said you wanted to get to know me more… _intimately_.” 

The last word was barely a whisper, and Sigyn flushed bright red from her hair to the neckline of her gown. 

“There’s no need to be nervous, Sigyn,” he said, thrilled with the reactions he brought forth from her. “Tonight, I merely wish to talk.” 

“In all honesty, it’s difficult to relax. You look so… _regal_ ," she said, indicating the armor he wore. “You’re a bit intimidating.” 

“Here, maybe this will help.” 

He stepped back from her, holding his arms loosely at his sides. Starting at the center of his chest and spreading out, his metal armor began to shimmer and disappear from his body. After a moment, he was left with just his black underclothing, with a long black overcoat taking the place of his cape. 

“Now this is much better,” he said. “My armor may look menacing, but it certainly isn’t made for comfort. Perhaps we can both relax a bit more now." 

She stared at him, agape. “How did you do that?” 

“It’s difficult to explain,” he said. “Besides, a good sorcerer never gives up his secrets.” 

“And do you have a lot of secrets, Loki?” 

“Doesn’t everyone?” 

Sigyn laughed. “Fair enough.” 

They came to a trellis, heavy with blossoms, with a bench beneath it. Loki sat, resting one elbow on the back of the bench, one leg crossed at the ankle over the other. 

“I must admit you have me at a slight disadvantage,” he said, as Sigyn settled in next to him. “You know much about me, and yet I know so little about you.” 

“What do you wish to know?” asked Sigyn. “I can’t imagine what you would find fascinating about my life." 

“Everything,” said Loki. “Every detail about you, no matter how small.” He smiled at her. “Start with your family.” 

She told him about her brother and her parents. Their happy marriage, her content childhood. How all of that had changed when her father died. 

"I remember that incident," said Loki, taking her hand in his. “I am embarrassed to admit, sometimes up here, in this palace…it’s easy to forget the families who are affected by events such as those." 

It still hurt for Sigyn to think about her father too much, even after so long. She felt a tear gathering at the edge of her eye, and she reached up to brush it away. 

“I had hoped to follow in my father’s footsteps one day, to become a diplomat as he was.” She shook her head. “But after his death, my mother was adamant that I work towards an appointment here in the palace instead, insisting it was safe. I’m not so sure she was correct.” 

“What do you mean?" asked Loki, his brow furrowed. “Surely you feel no danger as my mother’s handmaiden." 

“Had I not been appointed to your mother, in all likelihood we would never have met, Loki,” she said. “You…you make me feel vulnerable.” 

"I mean you no harm, Sigyn," he said. “I am very fond of you." He placed his hand on her knee. 

She placed her hand over his, enjoying the warmth of his skin. “But, why me? Surely there are countless other women vying for your company.” 

“Not as many as you might think,” said Loki, shaking his head. “I may be a prince, but I am only the second son, second in line to the throne. Second best to so many.” 

“Not to me,” said Sigyn, lowering her eyes. 

He pulled his hand back, placing it under her chin to raise her eyes to his. “You make me believe that. That is why I wanted to get to know you better,” said Loki. “Your curiosity, your intelligence, your  _vibrancy_ …” 

For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to say more; however, he stood abruptly instead, holding his hand out to her. 

“Come with me. I want to show you something.”  

She took his hand without hesitation, and Loki led her through the palace, up a back staircase to a vast terrace overlooking the expanse of Asgard. 

“It’s so beautiful up here,” said Sigyn, leaning onto the railing. From their vantage point, Sigyn could see the Bifröst as stretched out to the horizon, the glitter of its surface perfectly mirroring that of the sky. A slight breeze ran across her skin, causing her to shiver. 

"Here," said Loki. “Let me warm you." 

He moved his hand sharply to one side, and a woolen shawl appeared in his grasp, created right out of the very air around him. He placed it on her shoulders, pulling it up around her neck. “Better?" 

"Yes, thank you," said Sigyn, snuggling into the fabric. “You know, I don’t think your talents will ever cease to amaze me." 

"Oh, you have yet to be apprised of all my talents," said Loki, grinning at her. “Conjuring a shawl is the least of my abilities." 

Sigyn swallowed hard, imagining what other abilities he might have and when he might share them with her. She decided to change the subject. “Do you spend a lot of time up here?" 

“I enjoy studying here on occasion,” said Loki. “It gives me open space where I can practice certain spells in relative privacy.” 

“Certain spells?" 

“Here,” said Loki. “Let me show you.” 

He walked to the edge of the terrace, facing the side wall. He stopped there, raising his hands in front of his chest, palms out, and drawing them slowly apart. 

Directly in front of him appeared a large rectangular box, taller and wider than him, shimmering a ghostly green before becoming solid. 

“That is impressive,” said Sigyn. “But…what does it do?” 

“It catches things.” 

Sigyn tilted her head, puzzled. 

“Just watch,” said Loki. He strode the length of the terrace to the opposite wall. “Please, though, do stay where you are. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Her curiosity piqued, Sigyn nodded her head, pushing her body against the railing tightly. 

Loki, still facing away from the box, cupped his hands together at his chest. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and focused. Immediately, his hands began to glow a faint blue. 

Setting his shoulders, he swiftly turned on his heels, graceful as a dancer, the tails of his overcoat fanning out from his body. His right hand pitched sharply forward, three knives flying from his fingertips and embedding themselves in the large box with a hollow thud. 

Sigyn’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with astonishment. 

Loki turned to her, pleased at her reaction. “You can see why I might need open spaces for that particular spell.” He walked back to the box, reversing his movements from earlier to make it disappear, knives still in its surface, before rejoining Sigyn at the railing. 

“That was astonishing,” said Sigyn. “How do you make it look so easy?” 

“I know it sounds trite, but lots of practice,” said Loki. “In battle, Thor tends to be more bold and rash, right in the thick of things. I like my fighting style to be a bit more…understated. More distant.” 

“Do you find yourself in battle often?” Sigyn asked. The thought of him being in physical danger had never crossed her mind, and it frightened her. 

“Fortunately, our realm has known peace for quite some time,” said Loki, his tone reassuring. “The only fighting I have experienced recently is in the training rooms with Thor.” 

“That’s a relief,” she said, sighing. 

“Not necessarily,” said Loki. “He gives me no quarter in training. I have learned to become quite skilled at defending myself.” 

Sigyn could only imagine what the two of them sparring might look like, when she began to hear faint music. Glancing over the railing, she could see that the remaining revelers from the celebration had spilled out into the courtyard below them. 

Loki stepped away from the railing, bowing at the waist and holding his hand out to her with a flourish. “Might I have the pleasure of this dance?” 

“Why Loki, I would be honored,” she replied with an exaggerated curtsy, before taking his hand. He pulled her in close, keeping one hand in hers while his other hand went to her waist. 

Sigyn placed her free hand on his shoulder, letting him take the lead as they spun around the terrace. She looked up at him, his bright green eyes intense, seeing right into her. She couldn’t look away. 

He moved his hand against her waist, snaking it around to her back and pulling her in as close as possible, fitting his body to hers so closely not even a whisper of air could pass between them. She could feel every movement of his muscles beneath her hands, and even though they were still fully clothed, to Sigyn it was outright erotic. 

Overwhelmed, she took her hand from his and leaned into him, placing both of her arms around his body, resting her cheek on his chest as they turned and swayed to the music. Loki rested his head on hers, one hand on her waist holding her close as the other began to trace a slow path up her spine. She closed her eyes and allowed him to fill her senses, his smell a mixture of leather and dark forests and winter snow. The wine had long since worn off, but Sigyn still felt absolutely intoxicated. 

A few more turns and the music stopped, their dance concluded, neither daring to loosen their embrace. 

They stood like that for several moments, saying nothing. Sigyn could feel his heart beating solidly under her cheek, even through all the layers of his clothing. Her whole body hummed with need, and she hoped he couldn’t feel how badly her hands were shaking on his back. 

Suddenly, he lifted his head up. Placing his fingers under her chin, he raised her head, his eyes locked on hers. He looked as if he was searching for something in her face - honesty, affection… _permission_. Sigyn tried to project all of those things to him, her breath becoming more and more shallow in the effort. 

Without a word, Loki reached up to her hair, making quick work of the pins that held it up, snapping his fingers after he removed each one to wink them out of existence. Freed from its bonds, her hair tumbled to her shoulders and around her face. She had never felt more beautiful in her life. 

He cupped her head with his hand, his fingers in her hair and his thumb running over her lips. He took in a breath, as if he was about to speak, when he closed the distance and kissed her. 

This kiss was completely different from the innocent one they had shared in the garden. It was more passionate, filled with all of the unspoken desire they had held in all evening. Loki gently pressed his thumb to her chin, sliding it down and around her neck as she happily opened her mouth to him. She could taste wine on his tongue, and she shuddered with delight. 

Sigyn felt utterly weak in Loki’s embrace, happy that his arms were around her to help her remain standing. 

She broke from him for a moment, to catch her breath…and noticed the sky lightening in the distance. She had completely lost track of time, and dawn was breaking. 

She gasped. “I need to get home, Loki. My brother - he must be worried." 

"I will take you." 

"I’m not sure-" she began, when he cut her off. 

"Sigyn, I have no intention of this being our last night together. The sooner your brother knows the better," he said, impatience in his voice. “I will not be hidden away." 

She drew in a deep breath. “You are right," she said. Sigyn knew she couldn’t avoid Edmund forever. She also knew that he would never believe who she had been with if he didn’t see for himself. 

* * *

Her apartment was not far from the palace, easily within walking distance, but Loki arranged for a carriage to take them instead. Sigyn was pleased he had, as it allowed them to kiss the entire way there. She didn’t think she would ever tire of it. 

All too soon, the carriage arrived at her apartment. Loki followed her to the front door, where she turned to him one last time. 

"Thank you for a most remarkable evening, Loki," she said. “I so enjoyed your company." 

"And I yours," he replied, pulling her in for one last small kiss. “Oh! I almost forgot. I have something for you." 

He held his hands out in front of his body, palm to palm. He rubbed his hands together quickly, and began to pull them apart. While Sigyn watched in amazement, a book began to appear between them. As soon as it was solid, Loki grasped the spine and held it out to her. 

"Here," he said. “I thought you might like to finish reading this." 

Sigyn took the book from him. She recognized it immediately as the latest one she had been secretly reading in the Queen’s chambers. 

"How - how did you -" she began. 

"I saw you placing it on the shelf in my mother’s room yesterday," he replied. “I told you I know more than you think, Sigyn. You seem to have a love of books as great as mine - I admire that about you." 

She ran her fingers over the cover of the book. “Thank you, Loki. I promise to take great care of it and return it as soon as I’m done." 

"You know, I have also have quite a collection in  _my_  chambers," he said. “Perhaps I can show you sometime soon." 

Sigyn opened her mouth to reply, when the door to her apartment flew open, revealing Edmund, his face livid. 

"Sigyn! Where in the Nine have you-" he began, his words dying in his throat at the sight before him. Sigyn...and Prince Loki. 

"Your Highness!" said Edmund, bowing sharply. “Has my sister done something wrong?" 

Before Loki could reply, Edmund turned to Sigyn. “What have you done? Did you steal that book?" 

"The book was a gift from me," said Loki, his voice even. “Your sister was with me all night, and I can assure you, she has done nothing wrong." 

Edmund turned to Sigyn. “Is that true?" he asked, his tone disbelieving. 

"Yes, of course," said Sigyn. “Are you questioning the prince?" 

At that, Edmund was silent. 

"We plan on spending quite a bit of time together," continued Loki, looking at Sigyn with a smile. “You can expect to see me more often, Edmund." 

Loki took Sigyn’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “I will see you soon, yes?" 

Sigyn bowed her head to him, clutching the book to her chest. “Yes, yes of course." She turned and hurried into the apartment, avoiding Edmund’s look as she passed. 

Edmund turned to the prince. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I did not mean to assume…" 

"Your sister is an extraordinary woman," said Loki. “You would do well to remember that." He began to walk back toward the carriage, turning back after a few steps. “By the way, I believe you left something at the palace last night." 

Loki snapped his fingers, chuckling at the look on Edmund’s face as rose petals began to materialize out of the air to fall at Edmund’s feet.


	5. Chapter 5

Sigyn was nearly to her room when she heard the front door shut, and Edmund’s heavy footsteps approaching her. 

“Is this some sort of jest?” he asked. 

She turned to face him. “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked. “Do you not think your sister capable of catching the eye of a prince?” 

“Of course I do, Sigyn,” he said, running his hand through his hair. He didn’t appear to have slept all night. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. When you didn’t return last night, I got worried.” 

“I’m sorry, Edmund,” said Sigyn. “Loki and I-” 

“ _Loki_?” said Edmund, incredulous. “That’s awfully familiar, don’t you think?” 

“He asked me to call him that, Edmund,” said Sigyn with a sigh. “I’m not as impudent as you think.” 

Edmund paced the hallway, his hands on his hips. “And this… _courtship_ …how long has it been going on?" 

“He approached me just this morning,” said Sigyn. “Well, I guess it would be yesterday morning by now.” It already seemed like a lifetime ago. 

“Did you say anything to Mother when she was here?” asked Edmund. 

“Of course not!” said Sigyn. “If she knew, all of Asgard would know before the end of the day.” She walked up to Edmund, her finger in his chest. “I’m not going to tell her just yet - and neither are you.” 

“Sigyn, she is going to want to know how the celebration went, if you attracted the attention of a possible suitor. What am I to say if she asks?” 

“You will say nothing more than that it went well,” said Sigyn. 

“Sigyn-” 

She cut off his protestation. “If she finds out about this before I’m ready, I will know who told her.” She plucked a stray rose petal from Edmund’s tunic. “I know you love your position as a Royal Guard - I would hate to see you lose it.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Don’t test me,” said Sigyn. “I’ll not have you ruin this for me Edmund.” She turned to walk toward her room. 

She only managed a few steps before she felt Edmund’s hand on her shoulder, turning her around. “Sigyn, you were gone all night. Did he force himself on you?” 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” she said, shrugging his hand away, “but  _no_.” She opened the door to her room, walking in before turning back to Edmund once more. “I promise you when it comes to it, he won’t need to.” She slammed the door to her room before Edmund could reply. 

Sigyn had never been so bold with her brother in her life. Her heart was hammering in her chest, but not out of fear - out of  _exhilaration_. Something had changed in her overnight. She had a new ferocity about her, something she was determined to keep. 

She shrugged off her dress before collapsing onto the bed. She knew she had no hope of falling asleep, and she had to report back to the palace shortly anyway, but she had to settle herself first. She covered herself with the shawl Loki had given her. It smelled like him, and she breathed in deep, allowing her mind to wander to the evening’s events. 

She was surprised at how quickly she had been able to calm herself around him. He had a way of putting her at ease, allowing her to open up and relax. Unlike other men she had spent time with, Loki had seemed genuinely interested in her, in her life, in the things she had to say. 

He’d also made it clear that he hadn’t expected anything more than talking from her. He clearly enjoyed using provocative language on her, but he hadn’t made any physical advances that she’d had to rebuff - not that she would have. Not after the way he had kissed her. 

She couldn’t remember having ever been so thoroughly kissed in her life. She could clearly remember the feeling of his hands on her face, how soft his lips had been. She smiled like a schoolgirl at the memory, her fingers tracing her lips and a giggle escaping her throat. She was going to be useless to the Queen today if she didn’t get herself under control. 

Sigyn gasped, her smile evaporating from her face.  _The Queen._  

How much did the Queen know about the night’s events? Sigyn felt her nerves blossom up in the pit of her stomach all over again. She and Loki had not spoken of his mother or how much she knew about his intentions. Sigyn highly valued the opinion of the Queen, and would be devastated if her budding relationship with Loki was met with disapproval. 

If it was, Sigyn would have to call on some of her newfound strength to face the consequences. 

She lay in bed for some time, tossing and turning, until she finally gave up trying to get any rest. She got up, bathed quickly, and ate a small breakfast to settle her stomach. 

She had intended to talk to Edmund before she left, to apologize for speaking to him so harshly. In her heart, she knew he only had her best interests in mind, but he needed to understand that she was no longer a child. She was a grown woman, with all the needs and desires of an adult. Edmund, of  _all_  people, should understand that. 

But he was already gone, having reported to the palace himself. It would have to wait. 

* * *

Loki did not sleep upon his return to the palace, choosing instead to go to the training room and practice his fighting skills. 

As it was so early, he had the entire room to himself. He often preferred it that way, as it allowed him to conjure clones of himself to fight. They fought exactly as he did, and it helped him learn quickly from his own mistakes. 

The previous night had left him on edge, and every moment he spent in movement, casting spells and landing blows on his duplicates, helped to calm him. He worked hard, pushing his mind and body to their limits, until he was breathless and exhausted. 

But still, he knew sleep would elude him if he returned to his chambers. He briefly considered finding Thor, but he knew that his brother would only be interested in whether or not Sigyn had spent the night in Loki’s bed or her own. 

There had been a time when Loki would have been eager to share the details of his conquests with Thor, to prove to him that his little brother was equally capable of great feats in the bedroom. But those days were long past. 

Whatever his relationship was with Sigyn - whatever it was  _going_  to be - Loki felt the need to keep it close to his chest. To protect it. To not defile it with a loose tongue. 

There was only one person with whom he wished to discuss the previous night’s events. 

He made a quick trip to his chambers to wash up, and headed directly to his mother’s rooms. It was still too early for Sigyn to have returned, and he found his mother alone, just as he had hoped. 

“You don’t appear to have slept,” said the queen, appraising him. “Am I to assume things went well for you last night?” 

Loki couldn’t help but blush at the implications of her words. She was one of the only people in Asgard who could elicit that kind of reaction in him. It was one thing for Thor to tease him, but this was his  _mother_. 

“Things went very well,” he said. He walked to her bookshelf, leaning upon it with one hand. “I will have you know, my behavior was as befits a prince and a gentleman,” he continued over his shoulder, trying not to sound defensive. “Sigyn and I spent all night together…merely talking.” 

“And do you find her company pleasant?” 

“More than pleasant,” he said, running his hand over the spines of her books. He felt his mother’s hand on his back and he turned to face her. “With your blessing, I would continue to court her.” 

She placed her hand on his cheek. “You are certainly free to make your own decisions, Loki,” said the queen, smiling at him. “But if you require my blessing, then consider it given.” 

“Thank you, Mother-” he began. 

“However,” she continued, grasping him by the shoulders and looking him in the eye. “You cannot linger here while she is working. I need to be able to keep her attention. She will be here soon, and you need to be gone when she arrives.” 

Loki nodded, unable to argue the point with her. “Yes, Mother," he said, turning to leave. 

He was down the corridor, nearly to the stairs, when Sigyn turned the corner and ran right into him. 

Her face lit up at the sight of him. It had only been a few hours, but he realized that he had already missed her. He could already feel her worming her way into his heart, and he realized he was going to have to be careful if he wanted to stay in control. 

“Sigyn, I was hoping to see you this morning,” he said. “My mother has insisted that I find something else to occupy my time today. She says I would be too much of a distraction to you if I remained here.” 

“She is probably right,” said Sigyn, anxiously looking past him to the queen’s chamber doors. “She is not angry at me, then?” 

“What? Of course not,” said Loki. “Why would you think that?” 

“I don’t want to jeopardize my position with her,” said Sigyn. “I’m so afraid she will disapprove.” 

“Oh, Sigyn,” he said, taking her into his arms. “Talk to her yourself. You will find she’s not only approving, but encouraging.” He looked around, checking for anyone who may have been watching. “Now, come here.” 

He pulled her back into an alcove at the side of the hallway. “If I must wait all day to spend time with you again, I need a reminder of what I’m looking forward to.” He threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling her in for a lingering kiss. 

After a moment, Sigyn reluctantly broke from him, leaning her forehead to his. “I must go. Your mother will be expecting me.” 

Groaning in frustration, he kept his arm around her waist, his fingers stroking her cheek. “Will you come find me the moment your duties are finished?” 

“The very moment,” she said with a grin. “Where should I look?” 

“The palace library,” he said. “Come as soon as you are able.” 

They exited the alcove, and Sigyn watched as he bounded down the stairs, turning back at the landing to smile at her once more. It took every ounce of willpower she could muster to not run after him. 

Instead, she turned and continued down the hallway to the gilt doors of the queen’s chambers. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before letting herself in. 

"Sigyn, good morning," said the Queen. She was sitting at her dressing table. She held her hairbrush out to Sigyn. “Come help me with my hair. It will give us a chance to talk." 

"Of course," said Sigyn, taking the brush and running it through the Queen’s hair. “I do hope you enjoyed the festivities last night, Your Majesty." 

"It  _was_  quite spectacular," she replied, watching Sigyn in the mirror. “What about you, dear? Did you enjoy yourself last night?" 

Sigyn swallowed hard. Her hands were shaking as she lifted a lock of the Queen’s hair and pinned it into place. “Yes, Your Majesty. I enjoyed myself very much." 

"So I heard," said the Queen, smiling at her. “There is no reason to be nervous with me, Sigyn. I am not opposed to Loki courting you. In fact, quite the opposite." 

Sigyn drew in a deep breath. “Your Majesty, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that from you." 

”I have known of his interest in you for quite some time. A mother knows these things, sometimes even before her child knows," she said. “I was also quite aware of your feelings for him." 

Sigyn brushed another section of hair, pinning it up around the Queen’s face. “Was I that obvious?" 

The Queen smiled broadly at Sigyn. “My dear, it is plainly written on your face every time you look at him." 

Sigyn blushed furiously at this admission, and the Queen turned to her. “In truth, that is part of why I was so willing to approve of his courtship of you. Knowing his feelings for you were returned." 

Sigyn lowered her eyes. “They are, Your Majesty. He is quite unlike any other man I’ve ever met.” 

“Sigyn, you don’t strike me as naive,” said the Queen. “As a mother, I don’t wish to dwell on the details, but I know my sons are virile young men. I am certain you understand that Loki is not… _inexperienced_.” Sigyn’s eyes widened at the Queen’s candidness, but remained downcast. 

“However,” continued the Queen, “he has never asked my permission to court a woman - not until yesterday. That he would seek my approval of you tells me that he thinks very highly of you. Perhaps more highly than anyone he has been interested in before.” 

“This is all still such a shock to me, Your Majesty,” said Sigyn. “In all honesty, I was surprised that he felt the same way. Until yesterday, I would not have guessed he had ever looked twice at me." 

"Loki is quite good at hiding his emotions from those he does not yet trust, but they are just under the surface - as they have been his entire life," said the Queen, placing her hand over Sigyn’s. “He is a very passionate man, Sigyn. When his heart is set on something, he will allow nothing to stand in his way." 

Sigyn knelt next to the Queen, looking up at her where she sat. “I feel I must know -  His Majesty, the King? Does he approve as well?" 

"My husband is quite content to leave matters such as these to me," said the Queen. “He only wishes happiness for both of his sons. I would not concern yourself about him." 

"Thank you for your candor, Your Majesty," said Sigyn as she stood and brushed the last of the Queen’s hair around her shoulders. “And please be assured, I will not allow these new developments to hinder my service to you." 

"I am sure you won’t," said the Queen. “But just to be certain, I have requested that Loki occupy himself elsewhere today." 

"He told me," said Sigyn. “I saw him in the corridor just now." 

"And he didn’t convince you to avoid your duties and spend the day with him?" The Queen laughed. “He may be a grown man, but he still knows to obey his mother." 

She handed Sigyn a sheet of parchment, her duties for the day listed on it. Sigyn looked at it, puzzled. It was much shorter than usual. 

"I know you are anxious to see him again," said the Queen. “For today, I will not keep you from him longer than necessary." 

"Thank you, Your Majesty," said Sigyn with a grin, her stomach fluttering. She went about her duties as quickly as possible, anxiously counting the moments until she could see Loki once more.


	6. Chapter 6

Loki didn’t know what he had got himself into. 

He had always prided himself on not getting too attached to anyone. On keeping himself at arms’ length from those around him. Only his parents and Thor were allowed to get close; until recently, they had been the only ones he trusted enough to see him at his most vulnerable. 

However, in the weeks since his mother’s birthday celebration, he had found himself spending every spare moment with Sigyn. They spent hours together, and the more time went by, the more Loki found himself opening up to her, sharing things with her he had shared with no one else. 

Together, they explored every part of the palace, taking books from the library and searching out quiet nooks and terraces where they could be alone and study together in private. He shared his favorite books with her, prose and poetry from across the Nine Realms, happily discussing their finer points at length. Sigyn’s willingness to not only read, but  _enjoy_  the books he loved was a quality he had never found in anyone other than his mother, and it delighted him. 

Not all of their time was spent at the palace. When Sigyn had time off from her duties, and the weather was favorable, they would ride out together into the outlying areas of Asgard, exploring the vast forests, the deep canyons, and the valleys at the foot of the mountains with equal enthusiasm. 

Loki knew these areas well, and had secret places where he would go to lose himself when he needed time alone, places he kept hidden even from Thor. It surprised him that he would feel compelled to share some of these places with Sigyn. 

He told her of the time when he and Thor were much younger, and he thought he had mastered a shielding spell. He had convinced Thor to try to hit him with Mjolnir, not realizing that his spell wasn’t nearly strong enough to protect him. For his efforts, he had been rewarded with a trip to the healing room and a scar on his forehead. He had long since learned spells that would eradicate the scar completely, but he kept it as a reminder to never again underestimate his brother’s fighting skills. 

Loki also told her of the first time he had travelled via the Bifröst with his father and brother, and how he had been so violently ill when they landed he was certain he was dying. The stern look from his father, coupled with the laughter from Thor, gave him the strength he needed to continue on. The King didn’t tolerate frailty in his sons, and Loki was not going to disappoint him by showing weakness. 

He had learned long ago that he would never equal, much less surpass, Thor’s physical power. He had instead focused on his own strengths, his mind and his self-control and his powers of sorcery - areas in which even Thor couldn’t claim superiority. 

Yet with every day that passed, and every new story and confession he shared with Sigyn, he began to feel that self-control slipping. There was no judgment from her, nothing she said or did that made him feel undeserving of her attention. 

He found that she brought forth emotions in him that no other woman ever had, emotions that seemed to contradict themselves in every way. Doubt and confidence. Fear and bravery. Worry and self-assurance. 

He began to yearn for her company. Intimately, they had gone no further than fervent kisses and embraces through clothing, yet he physically ached for her when they were apart. He desperately wanted to take her to his bed, to mark her and claim her as his own, but for the first time in his life, he was afraid she would reject him, or even worse, think he was merely using her for physical pleasure. He couldn’t stand the thought. 

It unnerved him that he allowed Sigyn to have so much control over him, and yet, he found himself unable and unwilling to regain the upper hand. He tried to make sense of it, to work it out in his head. He could feel something coming into focus, something unfamiliar and terrifying, yet always just out of his reach. 

 _You damn fool,_ he thought _. You’re letting her get under your skin._  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Out of your chambers, yet still with your nose in your books. This is not much of an improvement, brother." 

Loki was at the top of a ladder in the library, searching for a particular book he wanted, when Thor appeared beneath him. 

"How did you find me, Thor?" said Loki, glancing down at his brother. He enjoyed the feeling of towering over him for once. “I did not realize you even knew where the library was." 

"A future king must know his entire palace, brother - even those places he does not use often." 

"Perhaps using the library more often would make you a better king," said Loki, finally finding the tome he was searching for. “Not every issue can be solved with your hammer. Some matters need tact and diplomacy." 

"That is why I have you, Loki," said Thor with a laugh, as though it should have been obvious. 

"And you are lucky that you do," said Loki, jumping down from the ladder to land at Thor’s feet. “Is there something you need?" 

"Must I always need something to seek out your company, brother? I have barely seen you in weeks. Perhaps I just miss you." 

"I have been busy," said Loki, walking past Thor to settle himself in the window seat behind him. 

"Ah yes," said Thor, a sly smile on his lips. “You are quite smitten with her, aren’t you?" 

"If you are referring to Sigyn, then yes, I will admit that I enjoy her company," said Loki, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. “What is your point?" 

"My point is, you seem different, brother. Almost…content. It suits you." 

Loki leaned forward, elbows on his knees, narrowing his eyes. “A compliment? From you? Should I be worried?" 

"Perhaps it is I who should be worried. You have the regular company of a beautiful woman, yet here you are, alone in the palace library. Are there not better things you could be doing with Sigyn in your chambers?" 

Loki rolled his eyes. “This may be a foreign concept to you, brother, but believe it or not, sometimes relationships can progress slowly." 

"You can’t be serious," said Thor, looking nonplussed. “It has been weeks since Mother’s celebration. Are you telling me you and Sigyn have not-" 

"That’s enough!" said Loki, cutting him off sharply. “And you wonder why I think you lack tact." 

"Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten the mechanics of intimacy entirely?" teased Thor. “Or maybe…you are worried that you might complete the act before it even starts." 

"My feelings for Sigyn extend beyond just having her in my bed, Thor." 

"And what exactly  _are_  your feelings for her, Loki?" asked Thor, one eyebrow raised. 

Loki opened his mouth to speak, but for once he found himself unable to form the words. “I-I’m not sure." 

"Hmm," said Thor, a knowing look on his face. “Well, when you figure it out, come and find me in the training room," said Thor, walking away. “You must need  _something_  to relieve your tension." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Sigyn was beginning to get discouraged. 

She and Loki had spent every day together since the Queen’s celebration. But for all of his provocative words and suggestive comments, they had done nothing more than merely kiss. 

Sigyn had tried to drop hints that she was not opposed to taking things further. When they read together, she had taken to sitting closer and closer to him. She would allow her hand to linger in his, or gently run her fingers through his hair, pleased when he would lean into her touch. 

But no matter what she tried, every night would end the same. Loki would accompany her back to her apartment, never asking to come in, and never asking her to stay with him at the palace. She could tell he was holding himself back. For what purpose, she didn’t know. If he was trying to tease her, it was working - a little  _too_  well. 

Sigyn had decided that she had waited long enough, that she was going to take matters into her own hands. She wanted to give herself to Loki completely, and she intended to make it happen by the end of the day. 

Not wanting to be caught unprepared, she made a trip to the local apothecary to purchase the contraceptive herbs she needed. The old supply she found in her bathroom had long since become ineffective, a withering reminder of how long it had been since she’d been intimate with a man. 

Rearranging her schedule so that she would have the apartment to herself while Edmund was on duty had also been essential. Her brother still seemed a bit cautious around Loki, and she didn’t want to ruin the uneasy truce the two men had with each other by needing to ask Edmund to leave so Loki could have his way with her. 

As usual, Loki met her in the corridor outside his mother’s chambers before her duties. He had continued to heed the Queen’s warning to stay occupied elsewhere while Sigyn was in her service, not wanting to be a distraction. Before they went their separate ways, Sigyn asked him to meet her at her apartment in the early afternoon. She told him she was going to be helping his mother in her personal garden, and that she would need to go home and freshen up before they could spend any time together. 

As soon as her duties were complete, she rushed home to her apartment, her excitement building with every moment that passed. She bathed thoroughly, imagining they were Loki’s hands and not her own as she ran them over her body. The thoughts she conjured were nearly enough to undo her before he even arrived, and her legs were shakier than a newborn colt’s as she stepped from the bath.

She decided to wear the blue dress she had worn on the night of the Queen’s celebration, the most flattering dress she owned. Pulling it on quickly, she combed through her hair, leaving it to fall down her back, before deciding on one last adjustment to her clothing. She reached up under her skirt, pulling her undergarments off and tossing them into her wardrobe before closing it up. 

Making one final pass through her room, she cleaned a few remaining things off the floor and nervously straightened up the sheets on the bed. She heard a knock on the door, and checked her reflection one last time in the mirror before going to answer it, smoothing her palms over her hair and settling her features into some semblance of nonchalance. 

Opening the door, she couldn’t help but smile as Loki’s eyes travelled the length of her body, his breath catching in his throat. His reaction gave her hope that all of her efforts would not go to waste, and she could feel her nerves settling a bit.

“You look beautiful,” he said, and the way he sized her up told her he meant it. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Not quite. Will you come in for just a moment?” she asked, wincing at the high pitch of her voice. She was trying to sound relaxed and failing miserably. 

Loki hesitated only a moment, before following her inside to the sitting room. “Is Edmund here?” he asked warily, looking around as he lowered himself onto the sofa. 

“No,” she said, settling in next to him. “And he won’t be for some time.” She reached over to take both of his hands in hers, her eyes locked on his. “It’s just the two of us.” 

He looked back at her, his eyes bright but inscrutable. He studied her, saying nothing, and she dropped his hands in frustration. “Loki, if there is something I’ve done wrong, I wish you would tell me. I’m practically throwing myself at you, and you don’t seem the slightest bit affected.” 

“Sigyn, it’s not that-” he began, his eyes widening in alarm. 

“What is it then?” she continued. “You say you want to ‘know me more intimately’, that ‘I  have yet to be apprised of all your talents’. I must know - am I making a fool of myself? Do you…do you not want me?” She could feel her anxiety returning, the thought of him rejecting her advances threatening to bring tears to her eyes. 

He sat silently for a moment, contemplating what to say, before he took her hand and placed it on the front of his breeches. “What do you think?” he said, his jaw clenched and his voice low. 

She was rendered speechless by the boldness of his actions, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t pull her hand away, fearing that if she did, the opportunity she was being given would vanish. 

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers, his lips a mere whisper from hers. “I want you, Sigyn. I want _everything_."

“Then please,” said Sigyn, squeezing him gently in her hand, thrilled at the low moan she drew from him. “I’ve made all the preparations. I want this. I want to give myself to you, in every way.” She moved her head to press her cheek to his, whispering in his ear. “ _Please_.” 

 _Please_. Such a small word, but as she spoke, any remaining resolve he held disappeared. With no hesitation, he grasped Sigyn by her waist, moving her to straddle his legs and pressing her down into his lap. 

She held his head in her hands, running her fingers through his hair, scratching gently across his scalp. He was always so fastidious about his appearance, and for him to allow her to muss his hair was incredibly arousing. She brought her mouth to his, kissing him fervently before leaning her head back, giving him access to her neck and throat. 

He moved his hands slowly up her thighs and to her back. Even through her gown, the feel of his fingertips as they wandered to places he had never touched on her body was enough to make her struggle for breath. She wanted to enjoy this for as long as possible, but she was afraid it would be over quickly once he actually touched her bare skin. 

Even in this state, she realized the sofa would not comfortably hold the two of them for long, so she leaned down to his ear and whispered a single word. “Bedroom." 

Sigyn removed herself from Loki’s lap, reaching for his hand as he stood. He surprised her by scooping her up into his arms, lifting her as easily as he would a feather. She put her arms around his neck, placing her head on his chest as he carried her. 

"Which room?" he asked, stopping in the hallway. “I don’t want to end up in your brother’s bed." 

"It’s that one," she said with a laugh, pointing to the correct door. Getting anywhere near Edmund’s room would have certainly ruined her mood for good. 

Once in her room, Loki set her back on her feet, and she promptly hopped up onto the bed, scooting herself back as he crawled up after her. Her jaw went slack at the hunger in his eyes, and she wondered how she could have ever doubted his desire for her. He pushed her gently onto her back, laying himself on her, his mouth claiming hers once again before starting of trail of kisses down her neck. 

She sighed with contentment as he pressed into her, enjoying the solid weight of his body on hers, his scent, his taste, his  _masculinity_. Pulling her knees up on either side of his body, she began grinding her hips into his to increase the pressure where she wanted it most. He responded in kind, pushing his hips back into hers and into the bed. 

Fraught with the need to feel his skin on hers, she grabbed the bottom of his tunic, tugging it up to encourage him to remove it. She assumed he would just magic it away, so it surprised her when he sat back on his heels for just a moment, quickly pulling it up over his head and throwing it to the side. He had mentioned to her once that sorcery took a lot of concentration, and at that moment his magic clearly couldn’t compete with the attention he was giving her. 

Sigyn reached up to trace the contours of his chest and stomach, in awe of the lean hardness of his body, exposed to her for the first time. She hardly had a chance to admire him before he was leaned back over her, bracing himself up on one elbow. 

His other hand traced a path down her cheek and neck, down into her décolletage. “I can feel your pulse racing," he said, “and to know that  _I_ am the cause." He dipped his head to kiss her gently before pulling back. “I am overwhelmed." She felt every nerve in her body light up at his admission. He may have had the reputation of a trickster, but she could feel the truth in his words.   

He pulled the top of her dress to one side, freeing one breast to his lingering gaze before he closed the gap and pulled the nipple into his mouth. Continuing to move his hand down her body to the skirt of her gown, he grasped the hem and shoved it abruptly to her waist. He ran his palm down the outside of her bare leg, tantalizingly slow, stopping at her knee before returning to the top of her hips. 

When he realized she wasn’t wearing any undergarments, he raised his head. “You truly thought of everything, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, yes I-” she began, her words dying with a gasp as he set his mouth to her breast once more, causing her to arch her back up off the bed. He was unyielding in his attentions, pushing her leg out and slipping his hand between her thighs, sliding one and then another finger into her. 

At his touch all powers of speech abandoned her, and the only word she could summon to her lips was his name, repeated over and over.  _Loki…Loki…Loki…_  

They had barely started, yet she could already feel the familiar tension coiling in her belly at his ministrations. She was so far gone, so  _close_ , she almost didn’t hear the front door open, and her mother’s voice pierce the air. 

"Sigyn! Sigyn, are you home?"


	7. Chapter 7

Sigyn’s eyes flew open - panic consuming her.   _No, no, no, no, NO…this is not happening._

“Sigyn! Are you here darling?”

Loki lifted his head from her breast, the air cold on her wet skin. His fingers went still but remained buried in her body. “Who is that?” he asked, his voice suddenly too loud to Sigyn’s ears in their close quarters. She was certain her mother would hear him. 

“It’s my mother,” she said, her words soft but insistent. “Let me up!”

Her hands flew to Loki’s shoulders, pushing him up and away from her. She had been right on the precipice of release, and she could feel her body rebelling at the sudden loss of sensation.  _Why did I_ ever _agree to let her have a key to this apartment?_  

Loki sat back on his heels, his hands on his knees. “Were you expecting her?" To Sigyn’s relief, he had at least tempered his voice to a whisper. 

Sigyn wriggled off the bed, smoothing her skirt down and pulling the shoulder of her dress back up to cover herself. “No - but she has a key. I’m not sure why she’s here."  She grabbed the edge of the door, closing it as quietly as she could. She knew slamming it would only attract her mother’s attention. 

“I’ll be right out, mother - I’m just changing clothes!” Sigyn yelled through the door, hoping Dagmar wouldn’t try to test the handle. 

She turned back to face Loki, leaning her body against the door. He remained crouched on the bed, looking at her expectantly. “Will you see what she needs…quickly?”   

“Yes, yes,” said Sigyn, her voice barely audible. “But you need to stay in here.” 

“You want me to hide?” he asked, incredulous. The volume of his voice was rising once again. “Do you not wish for me to meet her?" 

“Shhhhh,” said Sigyn, one finger raised to her mouth. “Please…she’ll leave faster if we can forgo the introductions for now. Just give me a moment, and I’ll have her on her way.” 

He stayed silent, a curt nod his only answer. His irritation made Sigyn feel helpless, knowing that at this moment she couldn’t please both Loki and her mother. She decided that if someone was going to be angry with her, it was not going to be the man waiting in her bed. 

She mouthed a silent  _thank you_  to Loki, before taking a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She opened the door to her room and stepped out, making sure to swing the door softly closed behind her. 

Dagmar was waiting for her in the sitting room, sitting on the sofa. Sigyn felt a blush creep up her face at the thought of what she and Loki had been doing there just moments prior.  

“You look flushed, dear,” said Dagmar, rising from the couch to place the back of her hand on Sigyn’s brow. “Are you feeling well?” 

“I’m fine, mother,” said Sigyn. “Really. You’ve just, um,  _surprised_  me that’s all. I wasn’t expecting a visit from you today.” She could feel the words coming out too fast. She hoped her mother didn’t become suspicious. 

“I’ve barely seen you in weeks,” said Dagmar, patting Sigyn’s cheek. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you’ve been avoiding me.” 

Sigyn hadn’t been intentionally avoiding her mother. Every spare moment she’d had recently was spent in Loki’s company; evading Dagmar and her endless questions was merely an added benefit. Until this afternoon, Sigyn truly hadn’t been sure if Loki’s feelings for her were strong enough to warrant a revelation to her mother. 

She had also steered clear of the topic of her mother with Loki. If she was to be completely honest, she would need to tell him about her mother’s insatiable need to see Sigyn married off to a man of wealth and privilege. There was hardly a man more wealthy or privileged than a prince, and the last thing Sigyn wanted was for Loki to think that she was simply using him for his social status. 

Even so, Sigyn knew that if their relationship continued to progress, she could not endlessly delay Loki meeting her mother; however, this was  _not_  the time or place for that to happen. 

“I’m going to put some water on for tea, darling,” said Dagmar, not waiting for Sigyn to answer before busying herself in the kitchen. “Come, sit with me. I have something I wish to discuss with you.” 

“Mother, must we do this right now?” said Sigyn, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. “I have plans for this evening, and I would like to get ready.” 

“Well, what I wish to discuss cannot wait, dear.” 

Sigyn followed her mother to the kitchen, her mind racing through ways she could get her mother to leave. She hoped Loki could be patient. 

Having just made tea before her bath, Sigyn was grateful her mother didn’t have to start the fire for the kettle from scratch. Even so, the wait for the water to resume boiling was endless, and every moment that passed was another moment that Sigyn feared Loki could be changing his mind, or worse yet, preparing to leave. 

"I thought I heard you talking to someone when I came in, Sigyn," said Dagmar, stoking the fire. 

"Talking?" said Sigyn. “Who would I be talking to?" She barely repressed the nervous laughter threatening to creep up in her voice. “It was probably the neighbors." 

"Perhaps so." 

After what seemed like ages, the water was once again bubbling, and Dagmar prepared two cups of tea before handing one of them to Sigyn. “Here darling, let’s sit for a moment." 

Sigyn turned to walk to the table, and froze in shock. Leaning in the doorway of the kitchen was Loki, still naked from the waist up. She hissed through her teeth as a bit of hot tea sloshed out at her sudden stop, burning her fingers. 

“What happened?” asked Dagmar, turning toward Sigyn - and the doorway - before Sigyn could stop her. 

Sigyn opened her mouth to say something, only managing a small squeak before Dagmar’s eyes followed Sigyn’s gaze toward Loki. He remained where he was, making no attempt to conceal himself. 

“What are you looking at?" asked Dagmar. “You don’t have pests here do you?” she continued, her eyes sweeping the room - and passing directly over the doorway, as though there wasn’t a partially clothed prince of the realm standing there. 

“Don’t worry,” said Loki, his calm voice a complete contrast to the fear rising in Sigyn’s throat. “I’ve made sure she can’t see me. One of my many talents.” 

Sigyn barely felt her mother’s hands as she took her tea from her and placed it on the table. “What has you so worked up, Sigyn?” she asked. “You’ve been on edge since I arrived.” 

“It’s nothing mother,” said Sigyn, her eyes never leaving Loki’s. “Like I said, I just wasn’t expecting a visit from you today.” 

As soon as Dagmar turned away from her, Sigyn mouthed  _I’m sorry_  to Loki. It was obvious he was unhappy, but she gave him a pleading look, hoping he would be understanding. 

“Well, I hate to just drop in like this, but as I said, this couldn’t wait a moment longer.” Dagmar settled herself at the table and raised her cup to her lips, blowing across the surface before taking a small sip. “I know you’re hiding something from me, Sigyn. Or more specifically, some _one_. A suitor.” 

Sigyn snapped her head around to her mother. “What?” 

“I have an acquaintance that told me her daughter saw you out riding with a young man,” said Dagmar. “She said he was quite handsome, but she couldn’t be sure who he was.” She took another drink of her tea, watching Sigyn expectantly. 

“Quite handsome?” said Loki with a snort. “I’m flattered.” 

Sigyn gave him a sharp look before joining her mother at the table. “Is that so?” she said, playing with the edge of her cup. The question could have been aimed at her mother and Loki both, but of course her mother was the one who chose to answer. 

“Yes, dear. Now tell me all about him.” 

Sigyn took a deep breath and raised her cup to her lips, trying to buy a little time. In her heart, she wanted to be able to tell her mother the truth, to let Dagmar share in her joy. But Sigyn knew the moment she revealed Loki’s identity her mother would never leave. The questions would be endless, ruining what little was left of the time she had planned to share with Loki alone. 

Sigyn set her cup down, the first words she could think of on her lips. “He’s nobody important, mother.” 

She caught movement from the corner of her eye, and when she looked back at the doorway, it was empty. 

She rose from her chair at once, knocking over her cup in the process. She regretted the words immediately, but there was no easy way to correct herself with her mother still there. 

“What is wrong with you, child?” Dagmar said, standing quickly to grab a towel for Sigyn’s spilled tea. 

“I’m sorry mother, I’m really not feeling well after all,” said Sigyn, her heart in her throat. “Can we please continue this another time?”

"But you’ve made a mess-" 

"Just leave it." She grabbed her mother’s elbow, pulling her away from the table. “Please? I just need to lie down for a while. I’m sorry you came all this way.” 

"Well, why don’t you lie down, and I’ll fix you something to eat." 

"No!" said Sigyn, a bit too forcefully. “Uh…no, Mother. I couldn’t possibly eat anything right now. I’m suddenly feeling rather nauseous." 

"Well, why didn’t you say so? I can’t leave you like this - let me take care of you!" 

Sigyn leaned against the table for a moment, clutching her abdomen. “It’s really for the best if you leave, Mother - I would feel terrible if you get sick because of me." She took a deep breath and walked to the sitting room, her mother at her heels. “I can manage by myself, really." 

She grabbed her mother’s coat from the back of the sofa, using the opportunity to slip her hand in the pocket and find the key to her apartment. She pushed it down the front of her dress quickly, before turning to hand the coat to her mother. She was determined that there would be no more surprise visits in the future. 

“Well, I suppose we can do this another time,” said Dagmar, the displeasure clear in her voice. “But let me know the moment you’re feeling better. I must know more about this suitor, ‘important’ or not.” 

“Yes, Mother,” said Sigyn, opening the front door and trying not to shove her mother out too rudely. “I promise, we will talk soon." She shut the door before her mother could reply. 

Sigyn leaned against the door for a moment before pushing herself down the hallway. She had to find Loki and try to salvage what was left of the afternoon. 

She found him standing beside her bed, completely dressed, not a hair out of place. He turned to her, and the look on his face told Sigyn everything she needed to know. There would be no salvaging of the afternoon, or the near future. 

“Loki, please, let me expl-” 

“Stop.” 

Sigyn crumpled at the word, and the obvious anger behind it, an emotion she’d never seen him express. To see that anger directed at her was devastating, and before she could stop herself, she began to cry. 

Loki approached her slowly. His eyes, so darkened with desire just moments before, were utterly cold. The change was so stark he hardly seemed like the same man. 

"Oh, don’t cry," he said. He reached up to caress her cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb. He leaned in closely, and for one hopeful moment Sigyn thought he was going to kiss her. His face was a hairsbreadth away from hers when he stopped. 

"Save your tears…for someone  _important_." 

He pushed around her, storming down the hallway before she could say a word. She managed to call out to him once - “Loki, wait!" - before she heard the front door slam shut. 

She ran down the hall and wrenched the front door open, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but it was too late. There was no sign of him anywhere. 

She turned back into her apartment, one hand on her hip and the other running through her hair.  _What have I done?_  She shut the door, leaning up against it before sliding down to the floor in a sobbing heap. 

She felt a pinch in her dress, and she reached in to pull out the key she took from her mother’s coat. She closed her fingers around it and squeezed, feeling the sharp edges dig into her palm until the pain in her hand was as great as the pain in her heart. 

 

* * *

 _You should have ended this long ago, you idiot. How could you ever think she was different?_  

Loki hoped the walk back to the palace would be enough to calm him. But with every step, his thoughts and doubts began to creep in, inflaming his anger. 

He heard voices in his head from the past, snippets of conversations he was never meant to hear. 

_He is only the second son, weak and insignificant…He will never be as strong as Thor…What use is a sorcerer when we have the strength of warriors?_

_He’s nobody important, mother._

Sigyn had lured him to her bed, and for what? To use him and humiliate him? She had been so warm and willing as she lay beneath him. He thought he had seen the truth in her eyes, that she had wanted him as much as he wanted her. 

 _You allowed your feelings for her to cloud your judgment. You opened up to her and look where you’ve ended up. An aching cock and a bruised ego…the only prizes worthy of someone so unimportant._  

He arrived back at the palace, momentarily at a loss as to where to go. It would be too easy to wallow in self-pity if he went to his chambers. 

Attempting to talk to his father would be a waste of effort. His mother was too attached to Sigyn - she would know everything soon enough. 

That left just one option - someone who would rather fight than talk. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Loki realized that’s exactly what he needed. 

He headed straight for the training room, hoping he wasn’t too late. As soon as he opened the door, he could hear the familiar sound of Mjolnir singing through the air. 

"Loki! I didn’t expect to see you again so soon," said Thor. He held his hand out to the side, retrieving his hammer without so much as a glance. He took in the sight of his brother, narrowing his eyes. “You look distressed. What troubles you?" 

"Nothing I wish to discuss. May I join you?" 

"Has something happened with Sigyn?" 

"I said I don’t wish to discuss it," said Loki, gritting his teeth. “One more question, and I will conjure a knife in your throat." 

Thor held his hands up in surrender. “Then come, brother. Let us put your anger - whatever the cause - to better use than threatening my life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks for my awesome beta LaTessitrice for helping me rid this chapter of my Americanisms. Although - it was quite amusing to momentarily picture Loki saying "y'all". ;)


	8. Chapter 8

Sigyn awoke the next morning, cold and alone in her bed, her heart heavy and her eyes still puffy from crying. 

She didn’t know how long she had remained by the front door after Loki left, hoping he would come back, before she had finally given up and dragged herself back to her bedroom. She had known that Edmund would be home soon, and had wanted to avoid him and any questions her disheveled appearance would have raised. 

Fortunately, Edmund did not stay long after he arrived home from his duties, likely not even realizing that Sigyn was there. As soon as he’d changed his clothes, he had left to meet Ingrid, the kitchen maid he had been seeing since the night of the Queen’s celebration. 

Sigyn had just remarked to Edmund the previous week that her romantic luck must have been rubbing off on him. After the events of the previous night, however, it seemed Sigyn’s luck had run its course and she was back to being alone. 

She knew she could not stay in bed all day - no matter how badly she wanted to avoid them, her duties to the Queen were still required. She forced herself up and into the bath before walking to the palace. 

She convinced herself that Loki would be waiting for her when she arrived for her duties, just as he did every day. He would give her a chance to make things right. They would move on and forget the previous night ever happened. 

But her hopes were dashed as she turned from the stairs into the corridor leading to the Queen’s chambers, and his familiar presence was completely absent. She went into the nearest alcove, giving herself a moment to cry in peace before composing herself. She was not going to let her disappointment affect her service to the Queen. 

The day passed by slowly, and Sigyn found it more difficult with each passing moment to keep her emotions in check. If the Queen noticed anything amiss, she kept silent about it, much to Sigyn’s relief. 

After her duties, she searched everywhere for Loki  - looking in all the places in which they had spent time together. The library, the terraces, the hidden alcoves in deserted hallways were all empty; it was as though he had abandoned the palace entirely. She gave up in frustration and headed home, not even bothering to eat before she collapsed back into her bed and into fitful sleep. 

The next day was the same, hours of trying to complete her duties without allowing the emotional turmoil in her head to affect her job. She still searched for Loki after her services were completed, but once again he was no where to be found. 

She knew things could not continue like this. The Queen deserved better than a lovesick handmaiden who couldn’t perform her duties. As much as it broke her heart, Sigyn knew she had only one option left. 

* * *

Loki had spent the past two days in the outlying forests of Asgard, returning in the evenings only after he knew Sigyn would be gone. He had needed time to clear his thoughts, to get her out of his mind - a task that had proven quite unsuccessful.  

A note had been waiting for him when he arrived back at his chambers the previous night, and even before he saw the Queen’s seal, he knew who had sent it. He sat on the edge of his bed, reading it again and again. 

 _Come to my chambers  first thing in the morning, before Sigyn arrives. You and I must discuss this situation - I have no desire to find a new handmaiden at this time._  

He would not disobey her, yet he knew it was going to be a difficult conversation. Even a simplification of what had happened would still be more information than he wanted to share with his mother. He finally decided that if she was going to summon him, she could ask the questions; how he  _answered_ was still under his control. 

The palace was quiet when he arrived at her chambers, the day having barely started. He let himself in without knocking. 

“I was afraid you might not show.” His mother was sitting at her dressing table, still in her sleeping gown. 

“I considered it, but I know better than to defy you.” 

“Come here,” she said, indicating a chair next to hers. “Sit with me.” 

Loki did as he was asked, feeling no different than a child being reprimanded for a misdeed. He didn’t say a word as he settled into the chair, stretching his legs straight out and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Must you look so sullen?” asked the Queen, turning to face him in her chair. 

“I’m sorry, Mother. I don’t have much reason to be happy right now.” 

“Well, that is just about the most foolish thing I’ve heard from your mouth in a very long time.” 

Loki leaned forward in his chair and opened his mouth to protest, when the Queen raised her hand to him. 

“No - you will hear me out.” 

He slumped back, clenching his jaw in frustration and sighing loudly through his nose. “What did she tell you?" 

"She told me nothing." The Queen reached towards him, unfolding his arms so she could hold his hands. “Loki, I don’t need to know the details of what happened between you and Sigyn to surmise that whatever it was, neither of you is very pleased with the outcome.” 

“Sigyn has no reason to be displeased, Mother. She was quite clear about her feelings for me that night, and they were not what I had hoped.” 

“I see. So, she told you that she does not have strong feelings for you?” 

"Not exactly…she wasn’t talking to  _me_  at the time-” 

“So, you overheard part of a conversation and made assumptions about what you heard? Surely you gave her a chance to explain herself.” 

“I didn’t need to hear any explanations.” 

The Queen dropped Loki’s hands and sat back in her chair. “Let me make sure I understand. You made assumptions about an overheard conversation and did not give Sigyn an opportunity to explain what she may have meant?” 

“Well…yes.” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms once again. 

“Did you ever stop to think you might be wrong?” 

“So, you’re taking her side? You don’t even know what was said.” He looked toward the door, waiting for any opportunity to leave. 

“I don’t  _need_  to know what was said. Loki, look at me.” 

Reluctantly, he turned back to her. 

“I see Sigyn nearly every day, just as you do. However, I am witness to how she behaves when you are not here. I need only mention your name, and her entire face lights up. She smiles to herself, lost in thought, when she thinks no one is looking. You may  _think_  she does not have strong feelings for you, but you could not be more wrong. That girl is in love with you.” 

“She told you this? Or are you just  _assuming_?” 

The Queen narrowed her eyes at his condescending tone. “A woman’s assumptions are worth more than any man’s, especially when it comes to love.” 

Loki stayed silent and stared at the floor, unable to form a reply. He trusted his mother’s opinion, but she had not been there that night. She didn’t understand how hurt he was. Sigyn had asked him to let her explain - should he have given her the chance? What could she possibly have said that would have made him feel better? He hated being so unsure, but he hadn’t known what else to do. 

He felt his mother’s hand beneath his chin, raising his face to hers. “Loki, Sigyn loves you, and I  _know_  you love her as well. If you can’t look into your heart, and realize that for yourself…” She patted his cheek. “Well, then I’m afraid there’s nothing anyone can do for you.” 

* * *

Sigyn reached for the door to the Queen’s chambers, hesitating just a moment before turning the handle. She knew she needed to get this over with before she changed her mind. 

The Queen was alone, seated at her writing table. “Sigyn, good morning.” 

“Your Majesty.” Sigyn approached her slowly, turning the paper in her hand over and over. This was going to be more difficult than she thought. “There is something I need to give you.” 

The Queen looked at her, her face impassive. “What is it?” 

Sigyn handed the Queen the paper, her words spilling out in a rush. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I feel I can no longer serve you to the best of my abilities. Please accept my resignation. I will remain in your service until you find a suitable replacement.” She took a deep breath, fighting back tears. “This is for the best. For everyone.” 

The Queen took the paper, unfolding it to read over the words written on it. After a moment, she folded it back up, handing it back to Sigyn with a sigh. “I will not accept this.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I said, I will not accept your resignation.” The Queen pointed to a chair next to her desk. “Sit down.” 

Sigyn did as she was asked, puzzled with the turn of events. This was not going as she planned. She kept her eyes down, waiting for the Queen to speak. 

“Sigyn, I’m going to ask you a question. I don’t want you to think about the answer, I just want you to say the first thing that comes to your mind, understood?” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Sigyn wasn’t sure what to expect, but the Queen’s question was still something of a shock. 

“How strong are you feelings for Loki?” 

Sigyn had never voiced it, but in her heart she knew there was only one answer. She loved him, completely and wholeheartedly. But  _he_  was the one that needed to hear it, not his mother. She chose her words carefully. 

“My feelings for him…they are stronger than I have ever felt for anyone before, Your Majesty.” As she spoke, it was as if a dam had burst inside her. Her face crumpled, and she began to cry. “But that doesn’t matter anymore.” She took the Queen’s hand, not caring how improper she was behaving. She was desperate for someone - anyone - to listen. “I said something without thinking, Your Majesty. If he would just give me a chance to explain, i-if I could just make him understand…” Her words trailed off as another sob wracked her body. 

The Queen sat in silence, patting Sigyn’s hand and waiting for her to compose herself. 

After a moment, Sigyn took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. I promised you that I would not let my relationship with Loki affect my service to you, and yet look at me.” Sigyn wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Please, forgive me.” 

“There is nothing to forgive, dear." She looked over Sigyn’s shoulder, as if gathering her thoughts. “Our feelings are not always logical. They sometimes make fools of even the wisest among us.” She pulled a handkerchief from her gown, handing it to Sigyn. “When your duties are finished for the day, I want you to find Loki and talk to him. I am certain he will want to hear what you have to say." 

Sigyn dabbed her cheeks, already feeling better. “Thank you, Your Majesty. For everything.” 

The Queen smiled at her, handing her a list of duties for the day. “Now, dry your tears - I need you to fetch more parchment for me. I seem to have run out.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty. Right away.” Sigyn stood up, setting her shoulders with renewed determination. 

The Queen watched her leave, waiting for the door to shut before rising from her chair to turn toward the opposite wall. “Are you still unconvinced?” 

Loki stood there, having concealed himself from Sigyn. Hearing her words, seeing how upset she was - he knew she was telling the truth. “No, Mother.” 

“Well, then. When she comes to you, for  _once_  in your life, be ready to listen.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I may be so bold as to recommend some mood music for this chapter, I suggest "Group Four" by Massive Attack. You can find it on YouTube. It's about 8 minutes long - it has a slightly foreboding beginning, with a satisfying conclusion. Much like this chapter. ;)

A note came for Sigyn right before her duties were completed. It was short and to the point.

 _Come to my chambers, and we will talk._  

There was no signature, just a seal in green wax - a horned helm - to indicate who sent it. 

She had only the vaguest idea of where Loki’s chambers were, but she knew she was in the right place when she saw the door - it was elaborate, the golden metal that decorated it much like his armor. There was no mistaking it for anything but the chambers of a prince. Sigyn knocked twice, rapidly, before she could change her mind and flee. 

“Come in.” There was no anger, yet no affection in the words. Sigyn thought blind rage would have been better than the guarded and controlled voice that greeted her. 

The door made no noise as it swung in on well-oiled hinges, revealing a sumptuous room lit by the fading daylight outside the windows and the warmth of a fire just out of sight. _Particular about every detail_ , she thought. _Not surprising._  

His chambers were only slightly smaller than those of the Queen, but every available expanse of wall was covered in shelves, all of them heavy with volumes of material. He hadn’t been lying when he said he had quite a collection of books. Sigyn had hoped her first time to see them would have been under better circumstances. 

As she stepped in, she took in the features of the room: the dark wood of the floor, the high ceiling, the sitting area in front of the fireplace. She tried to resist, but she couldn’t help flicking her eyes to the ornate bed on the side wall, covered in a tangle of sheets and furs. It was the one area of the room that wasn’t orderly, the one place that seemed even slightly welcoming - and the one place she wasn’t sure she would ever be allowed. 

Loki was seated at his desk across the room. Wearing only a light tunic and breeches, his chambers were plainly where he allowed himself to relax and be comfortable. He made no move to get up and greet her, only motioning toward the chair across from him to indicate that Sigyn should sit.  _He said he wants to talk, but will he truly listen?_  

His normally bright eyes were ringed in dark circles, as though he had not slept well since he last saw her. He watched her carefully as she settled in the chair, appearing to analyze every movement she made. It was as though he was testing her resolve - and Sigyn was determined not to lose her nerve. He was silent, apparently waiting for her to begin. 

“Your Highness,” she said, automatically reverting back to formality under his penetrating gaze. “Thank you for asking to see me.” She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw some flicker of emotion -  _regret? disappointment?_  - at her use of his title instead of his name.

“We did leave things quite unfinished.” 

“Yes, we did,” she said with a sigh. “I’m only asking you to listen to what I have to say. When I’m done, you can decide if you want to pick up where we left off…or if you never want to see me again. I will respect your wishes either way.” 

Sigyn continued without waiting for another response. She told him of her mother, and the pressure Dagmar placed on her to find a wealthy, connected husband. “I didn’t want to say anything about it before, because I was afraid you would think I was with you for the wrong reasons.” 

“You can’t deny that as a suitor, I would certainly raise your position in society considerably.” It wasn’t a boast, just a simple statement of fact.

“Of course I recognize that," said Sigyn. “But that’s not why I was attracted to you in the first place.” She could feel her voice rising in anger with every word, skirting the edge of insolence, but she could not stop herself. 

“I avoided telling my mother about you as well, not knowing if it was worth raising her hopes - not knowing how you truly felt about me. Why would I hide you from her if I was only after you for your status?” She rubbed her hand over her chest, trying without success to ease the ache gathering there. She was weary of crying, but it was getting more and more difficult to hold in the tears. 

“When she showed up unexpectedly…I-I panicked. I only wanted her to leave, so we could spend the rest of the afternoon together. Alone.” She leaned forward in her chair, reaching her hands across his desk. He seemed so far away. “I _never_ meant to hurt you. It breaks my heart to know that you think you’re not important to me. 

"I have cried more tears than I can count over the past two days. Not since my father died have I cried this much. If that isn’t proof of your worth to me, then I don’t know what is.” 

She sat back into her chair, gathering courage for the rest, knowing she may never have another chance to say everything she needed to say. “However, to be completely honest, I’m not just hurt - I’m angry. I’m angry you didn’t listen to me, that you didn’t give me a chance to explain before now. I’m angry that you would leave things unspoken.” 

Loki narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to speak, but she continued. “I’m not in the habit of inviting men into my bed on a whim. You are not some sort of _trophy_ to me. I wanted to give myself to you because…because…” She drew a deep breath. “I  _love_  you. If we never speak again, you should at least know that.” 

She slumped in her chair, clasping her hands in her lap. She was emotionally spent from revealing so much to him, things she would have been happy to say in any other situation. But this…this was just draining. 

She heard him stand, his bare feet making almost no noise as he came around the desk. He stopped beside her just long enough to brush her hair from her shoulder. “Sigyn," he said, “I don’t want to talk anymore." He began to walk toward the door. 

"I understand, Your Highness," said Sigyn, certain he was throwing her out. She stood and followed him with her head down, shame burning hot on her cheeks. _At least he allowed me to have my say._  

Loki grasped her arm as she made to pass him. Instead of opening the door, he reached past her and bolted the lock in place. 

"I didn’t say I wanted you to leave," he said, his voice low. “I only said I didn’t want to talk anymore." 

Sigyn barely had time to register his meaning before he closed the distance between them, pulling her in tight to his body. “For the first time in so very long, I am at a loss for words. Let my actions speak for me instead.” He cradled her head and moved in to kiss her. 

She stopped him with a finger on his lips. “Just so we’re clear, I’m still angry." 

"So am I," he said, moving her hand. “Just so we’re clear." 

His lips met hers, and she melted into his touch, deepening the kiss as she drew her hands up his back to pull him closer to her. All of the tension she held in ebbed away, all of the frustration and disappointment of the past few days pouring out of her. Her world narrowed down to just the two of them, everything and everyone else forgotten. 

He broke their kiss and leaned his head back, keeping their bodies locked together. “One last thing. No more ‘Your Highness’. Just _Loki_." He leaned back into her, nuzzling up her neck to whisper in her ear. “I will make you scream it until you are hoarse if you need help remembering.” 

Sigyn’s eyes fluttered closed, her breath shallow, every nerve in her body alight. “Yes…Loki," were the only words she could summon to her lips. 

At that, he moved quickly, scooping her up into his arms and wasting no time carrying her directly to the bed. As he laid her across the top, she thought to herself that it was just as soft and welcoming as she had imagined. 

She shifted and felt something hard digging into her back. Reaching under her body, she pulled out a book - the binding covered in runes she couldn’t read. 

"No more books in my bed," said Loki, more to himself than her, taking it from her with barely a glance and tossing it to the floor. “And no interruptions this time.” He turned back to the door, an incomprehensible incantation on his lips. Sigyn watched as the bolt on the door shimmered, a spell freezing it in place. 

Turning back to her, he climbed onto the bed and straddled her knees. He leaned over her on one hand, and began to unlace the top of her dress with the other, slowly and methodically. She kept her eyes on his, feeling the fabric loosen and fall away, and with it, all of her remaining inhibition. 

He looked down at her, his hair falling wild around his face and his eyes locked on hers, the green irises nearly swallowed whole in wide pupils, and in that moment, she knew that she had no power to resist him - that she would gladly do anything he asked of her. 

He leaned in for a slow kiss, before rising back up and pulling the top of her dress down her shoulders and off her arms, gathering it at her waist. Eager to be free of it, she lifted her hips just enough to pull the dress down her legs and completely off her body, tossing it off the side of the bed along with her shoes. 

Abruptly, he stood up and pulled her to the edge of the bed, leaving her legs hanging over at the knees. Reaching behind her, he gathered several pillows and placed them under her head, allowing her to watch him as he took in the sight of her. 

"I’ve missed you terribly," he said, his voice shaky with anticipation.

He pulled his tunic up over his head, and the clear outline of his arousal against the front of his breeches told Sigyn just how _much_ he had missed her. She had no time to do more than glance at him before his mouth was back on hers, their chests skin to skin, her hands tangled in his hair. 

He slid down her body, his mouth and hands traveling down her neck, to each of her breasts and low across her belly. Finally, he was on his knees beside the bed, his nimble fingers hooking into the top of her undergarments and pulling them smoothly down her legs, baring her body to him completely. 

She’d only had a few lovers, but none of them had ever been so intense. Loki’s gaze traveled the whole of her figure, his fingertips lingering over every part of her as though he was committing her to memory. It was too much to bear, and Sigyn threw her arm up over her eyes, unable to stand the scrutiny. 

“No, no,” he said, reaching up to move her arm away. “Look at me, Sigyn.” 

He skimmed his palms back down over her body before stopping at her knees, his eyes never leaving hers. Gently, he pushed her legs apart and began kissing up the insides of her thighs, alternating back and forth between each leg, every press of his lips like a flame on her skin.  

His pace was maddeningly unhurried, and she couldn’t help but reach down and grab his head in frustration, trying to encourage him to go faster. He merely chuckled at her, her strength no match for his. “Patience, love," he said, raising his head between kisses. “There’s no need to rush."  

Sigyn was nearly delirious with arousal by the time he finally reached his goal, setting his mouth to her center with fervor, his strong hands on her hips the only thing keeping her onto the mattress. She raised her feet to the edge of the bed, allowing her knees to fall to the sides, a litany of praise and affirmations streaming from her mouth. 

He hooked his arms around her legs, resting her thighs on his shoulders and effectively holding her to him - his lips, tongue, and fingers working together in ways Sigyn hadn’t known were possible. Not one of her former lovers had ever been so concerned about her pleasure before his own, and Sigyn thought her heart would burst from the intimacy of it.

He was relentless in his attentions, and in no time at all she was convulsing beneath him, her breath torn from her lungs in one long moan, one hand tangled in his hair and one grasping at the sheets as she came apart. 

Loki remained where he was, his breath hot on her leg as he gave her a moment to recover. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that."

She wanted to reply -  _By the heavens, why did you make me wait?_  - but before she could he stood and swiftly shed his breeches. He leaned over her, one arm reaching around her to sweep the pillows behind her head unceremoniously to the floor, his other arm around her to lift and push her back to the center of the bed. As he settled his weight onto her, Sigyn wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in close; yet, even in her state of relaxation, she couldn’t help but stiffen in anticipation.

"Relax," he said, caging her head between his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes as he pushed into her. “I love you," he said to her astonishment, repeating it between kisses. “I love you…I love you." 

"I love you, too," she replied, without hesitation. “Don’t ever doubt it again."  

He shed what little remained of his restraint, filling her completely with one final thrust. She gasped as he stretched her; she had wanted this for so long, needed to feel him inside her so desperately, she nearly wept with relief. For a moment he stayed still, before she traced her feet up the backs of his long legs, using the leverage to lift her hips up and encourage him to continue. 

He pulled back tentatively before rocking his hips back into her, his movements measured and cautious, eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort. She wanted to tell him just how amazing she felt, but words were suddenly too much of a burden for her mind to process. Instead, she settled for nodding eagerly, thrilled when he began to move in earnest, bracing himself on the headboard with one hand to keep from pushing the two of them into it in his enthusiasm.

As he drove into her, Sigyn allowed her hands to roam over Loki’s body, down his neck and back, across his backside and his thighs, reveling at the feel of the taut muscles beneath his smooth skin. His lithe form was slick with sweat, and before she could stop herself, she lifted her head to kiss the edge of his jaw, the salt on his skin deliciously sharp on her tongue. 

He sucked a breath in sharply through his nose, his rhythm remaining controlled, yet becoming more and more urgent. She guessed he was trying to put off his completion, but she needed him to let go and take his pleasure from her, wanting nothing more than to watch him as he dropped all of his damnable self-control. “Loki… _please_ ," she said, her hand on his cheek. “Don’t hold back." 

That simple request was all it took. His hips stuttered as he released into her, her name on his lips, all of his desire and longing poured into it, and Sigyn thought she had never heard a more beautiful sound in her life. She watched his face relax, his eyes completely unfocused, before he collapsed onto her, his head on her breast. 

She ran her fingers through his hair as he clutched her, and she could feel his heart pounding through his chest. They lay like that for several moments, saying nothing, their breathing eventually returning to normal. Finally, he raised his head to her, his skin still flushed from exertion. 

"That was wonderful…but we’re not nearly finished yet." 


	10. Chapter 10

Loki stood in front of his fireplace, conjuring more wood for the fire. It was just before dawn, and the nearly extinguished flames had left a slight chill in the air. He pulled his robe tighter around his body as he watched the fire grow, illuminating the room in soft light. 

His eyes drifted back to his bed, and the woman sleeping there. Sigyn shifted in her sleep, and the furs covering her torso moved, revealing an expanse of bare skin. Even from his position, Loki could make out a few small marks his mouth had left on her at some point during the night, and he felt his body responding to the memories that flooded his mind. 

The way the muscles under her skin fluttered when he grazed his teeth across her hip. The way her breath caught in her throat as he slipped his fingers between her thighs. Most especially the way his name sounded on her lips as she cried out in pleasure, her body shuddering beneath him, above him, around him. 

He hadn’t been sure of what to expect when she answered his request to come to his chambers.  It was his sanctuary, where he felt most in control, which was why he had asked her to come there rather than any of their usual meeting spots. He had only wanted to talk, yet from the moment she had stepped through the door, the physical longing for her after two days spent apart had nearly consumed him. 

Patiently, he had listened as she had explained her situation, but then…she had confessed her love for him. For his mother to assume as much was one thing, but to hear it from Sigyn herself was another matter entirely. Upon her admission, his own feelings had become terribly clear, and he knew he was lost. His sudden need to show her just how much he loved _her_ had been frightening in its intensity. 

He wanted to memorize everything about her. He wanted to suck and lick and nibble every inch of her body, to cover her in marks and leave no doubt to anyone that she belonged only to him - and he had tried his damnedest to do exactly that during the night. 

Loki had barely allowed the two of them any rest. Sigyn had drifted off a few times in his arms, but he had been so long without physical intimacy that it didn’t take long for his body to demand more. He noted with happiness that - even deprived of sleep - she responded the same each time, open and warm and pliant, welcoming him into her as though they were made to fit one another. 

With every release, he found the deepest, most hidden parts of himself shifting into something strange and new. He was shattered and remade, stronger and more resilient than before, down to his very bones. She made him feel invincible. 

Satisfied with the fire in the hearth, Loki walked back to the bed, shedding his robe. The air was sharp on his bare skin before he covered himself back up beneath the sheets and furs, turning to watch Sigyn sleep. 

Almost all of his previous lovers had been expected to leave the moment the act was complete. Only one or two had ever had the pleasure of servicing him more than once in a night, and even they weren’t permitted to stay until morning.  To his utter surprise, Loki realized that he would be thrilled if Sigyn never left his bed again. 

* * *

Sigyn stretched, blinking her eyes open. She was disoriented for a moment, wondering why her room felt so different, and why she was sleeping in the nude, when she realized she wasn’t alone. She looked to her side to find Loki there, watching her intently, his eyes wide in the dim light. Suddenly she remembered where she was and everything they had done, and she was torn between wanting to hide beneath the furs in shame and wanting to push him to the bed and have her way with him once more. He spoke before she had a chance to do either. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Sore.” He knitted his eyebrows together in concern, and she hurried to clarify. “The pleasant kind of sore.” She moved her body closer to him, needing the warmth of his skin on hers. “Is it late?” 

“It’s nearly morning.” 

Her heart dropped. “Oh! I should go - I need to go home and prepare for my duties.” Sigyn began to pull the furs back to get up when Loki stopped her. 

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve made your excuses for you.” 

“What? When?” 

He pulled her into his embrace, encouraging her to rest her head on his chest. “I’ve sent a messenger with a note. My mother won’t be expecting you today.” 

Sigyn's eyes went wide. “What did the note say?” 

“Oh, not much. Just _‘Mother, please excuse Sigyn from your service today. We will not be leaving my bed for the foreseeable future.’_ Something like that." 

 “It did not,” she said, gasping in mortification. 

She felt the rumble in his chest as he chuckled. "Of course not. I merely told her that you and I still had much to discuss. I cannot help it if she infers anything more than that. Especially since I sent a separate message requesting breakfast be sent to my chambers…enough for two.” 

Sigyn ran her finger over his collarbone, watching with fascination as a trail of gooseflesh appeared in the wake of her touch.  “I guess there will be no hiding this development from the rest of the palace staff now.” 

“Is that a problem?” 

“No, but…” She raised her head from his chest, looking him in the eyes. “Loki, I thought I’d lost you over a simple misunderstanding." She reached up to caress the side of his face, smiling as he leaned into her touch. "If we’re going to be together publicly - as _lovers_ and not just friends - our relationship needs to be built on mutual trust. You need to trust that my feelings for you are genuine...and I need to trust that you aren’t going to abandon me again.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, Sigyn,” he said, pulling her tighter into his arms. “I meant what I said. I love you, and I don’t care if every last soul on Asgard knows.” 

"Well, the moment my mother finds out, they will." 

“Speaking of your mother...I would like to meet her, _properly_ this time. If we sent a message early, do you think she would be ready for a carriage to pick her up this afternoon?” 

“This afternoon? So soon?” 

“Yes. The sooner the better. If the entire palace staff knows of us, then certainly she should know as well.” 

"She _was_ very keen on learning more about my suitor. That would likely be all the motivation she would need to get here today.” Sigyn worried her bottom lip with her teeth, suddenly anxious. 

"You seem hesitant." 

Having just lectured him on mutual trust, Sigyn knew better than to lie to him. "I'm just a little nervous that's all. I want her to like you as much as I do." 

Before she could take another breath, he flipped her onto her back, pinning her arms above her head and settling his weight between her legs. "What's not to like?" he asked, leaning in for a blistering kiss. Her mind barely had time to process thoughts of his apparently endless stamina when there was a knock on the door. 

Reluctantly, he pulled his mouth from hers and began to retreat from the bed with a groan. "That must be breakfast." He smiled down at her as he pulled his robe back on. "As much as I hate the interruption, I _have_ worked up quite an appetite." 

* * *

After breakfast, Sigyn had written a note to her mother to be delivered as soon as possible that morning. Much to Loki's chagrin, she had insisted on going back to her apartment to freshen up and change clothes. He made her swear that she would return quickly - and that she would come back prepared to spend the night again. She promised she would, but only if he allowed her more sleep than the previous night - she did not want to nod off accidentally during her duties the next day. 

She packed a small bag, and made it back to the palace with just enough time to take it to Lokis' chambers - saying a silent prayer of thanks that he was not there to distract her - before going to the courtyard to await her mother's appearance. It wasn't long before the sleek black coach pulled in. She knew her mother would have been quite impressed by the sight of it when it came for her. 

She watched as her mother exited the carriage, wearing her nicest dress, just as Sigyn had suggested. Dagmar smiled demurely to the coachman as he helped her down, and once again, Sigyn thought to herself that given the right motivation, her mother would certainly be able to find another husband easily. 

“This was quite the surprise,” Dagmar said when she caught sight of Sigyn. 

"Thank you for coming, Mother," said Sigyn. "I'm sorry for the short notice." 

If she was upset, Dagmar had the grace not to show it. "It's alright, darling." She took in Sigyn's appearance. "You're looking much better than when I saw you last." 

“Thank you,” Sigyn replied, kissing Dagmar on her cheek before leading her into the palace. “Things have certainly improved quite dramatically for me since then.” 

“I will admit, I am very anxious to meet this mystery suitor of yours,” said Dagmar, her face lighting up with expectation. 

“And he is anxious to meet you,” Sigyn replied, turning a corner to lead her mother down an expansive corridor. 

“Darling, I must ask - why here at the palace?” Dagmar asked. “Does he work here with you?” 

“In a sense.” 

“Well, I do hope he comes from a good family.” 

Dagmar had never really been very far into the palace before, and Sigyn watched with amusement as her mother took in the sights around her, peppering her with questions. Sigyn had to continually remind her that they were expected soon - a grand tour of the palace could come later. 

Finally, they came to the room Sigyn was searching for. “Should we be here, dear?” Dagmar looked around worriedly. “This seems like a private area.” 

“It’s alright, Mother,” said Sigyn, turning to Dagmar. “I’ve been asked to bring you here.” With that she turned the handle, leading her mother into the room. 

It was one of the smaller sitting rooms of the palace, usually used for greeting local dignitaries. Loki was there alone, perched anxiously in a seat near a window. He rose to greet them as they entered, striding towards them with all the confidence and poise becoming of his station. Sigyn's breath momentarily stopped at the sight of him, stunning in his more formal layers of cloth and leather. _By the heavens he is beautiful._  

Resisting the sudden urge to embrace him, she turned to Dagmar. “Mother, may I introduce His Royal Highness, Prince Loki Odinson.” Turning back to Loki, she said, “Your Highness, my mother, Dagmar Sigmundsdottir.” 

Dagmar took his outstretched hand, bowing in reverence. “Your Highness, forgive us, but I believe we are in the wrong place.” She turned back to Sigyn with a scowl. Under her breath, she said “Sigyn, I told you we shouldn't be here. Where is your suitor?” 

Sigyn opened her mouth to reply, but Loki spoke before she could. “Lady Sigmundsdottir, _I_ am Sigyn’s suitor,” he said, his most charming smile on his face. “I am most honored to finally meet you.” 

For a moment, Dagmar’s eyes went so wide Sigyn feared they would fall out of her head. “Your Highness…y _ou_ are her suitor?” Dagmar turned back to her daughter, and Sigyn knew exactly what she was going to say an instant before she said it. “You told me he was no one important!” 

_By the Nine…not this again._ She managed to hiss out "Mother-" between her teeth before Loki cut her off. 

“Did she now? Far be it from me to disagree with you, but surely you must have misheard her.” 

 “Well, Your Highness, certainly my hearing is not what it once was. Perhaps I misunderstood.” 

Sigyn watched in disbelief as Dagmar melted beneath his gaze, a blush on her cheek. Bemused, Sigyn realized that it had only been a few short moments, and her mother was already enamored with Loki. _This is already going better than I feared it would._  

Loki offered his arm to Dagmar, who took it happily, allowing him to lead her in a turn about the room. He was patient and attentive to her, despite the endless queries Dagmar was throwing at him about his family, life at the palace, and even the decor of the room. 

Sigyn stayed back, not wanting to interrupt and break the spell Loki was weaving over her mother. She heard the door open behind her, and turned to see some of the kitchen staff bringing in food. She thought to herself that Loki must have arranged for a meal, and was once again astounded by his attention to detail. He clearly wanted to make a good impression. 

" _Sigyn?_ Is that you?" 

At the sound of her name, Sigyn turned to find Ingrid, the kitchen maid Edmund had been seeing. She approached Sigyn quickly, her face a mask of shock. 

"Oh my heavens, there was talk in the kitchens about Prince Loki having overnight company in his chambers last night. I would never have guessed it was you!" 

Sigyn just smiled at her, unsure of what to say. She knew that the topic would have been discussed amongst the staff, but she was still surprised at how fast the news had travelled. 

"Does Edmund know of your relationship? He never mentioned anything about it to me." 

"Yes, but he was sworn to secrecy. I'm sure that's why he never said anything." 

"Is that your mother?" asked Ingrid, indicating Dagmar. "He must be rather serious about you." 

"It certainly feels that way," said Sigyn. "He asked to meet her." 

"Edmund has never introduced me to her," said Ingrid, and Sigyn thought she saw a look of annoyance momentarily pass over her face. "I don't suppose you..." 

"Oh, Ingrid - I would love to introduce you, but don't you think that's Edmund's responsibility? I would hate to overstep my bounds." 

"You're probably right," said Ingrid, lowering her head. "Besides, I don't think I would be nearly as impressive right now as a prince of the realm." 

"Oh, I didn't mean to imply-" 

"No, it's fine! I completely understand," said Ingrid, brushing her off. "I'll just have to wait patiently for Edmund to decide what to do." She took a deep breath, collecting herself. "I should probably get back to my duties." 

Suddenly, Ingrid stunned Sigyn with a quick hug. "Congratulations." She dashed off before Sigyn could reply. 

Sigyn heard Loki's voice behind her, and she turned to see him directing her mother to the table. "It looks like our meal is here. I hope you don't mind that I've taken the liberty of arranging for our dinner." 

"Oh, not at all, Your Highness. I'm finding your company quite delightful." 

Ever the gentleman, Loki pulled Dagmar's chair out for her, helping her sit before doing the same for Sigyn. He settled himself in right next to her, sitting across from her mother so they could continue their conversation. Occasionally, Sigyn would feel his fingers brush against her, trailing up her leg or squeezing her thigh - though his eyes never left her mother. Sigyn could feel her pulse racing at his touch, and she struggled to keep her face as impassive as his, trying not to have Dagmar suspect anything was amiss below the table. 

While they ate, Loki filled in any moments of silence by asking Dagmar about herself, her marriage and her husband, but most especially about Sigyn as a child. To Sigyn's great embarrassment, Dagmar was all too eager to regale him with tales of her daughter's childhood antics. 

She told Loki about the time that Sigyn had found an injured snake outside their house, and how she had cajoled her father into letting her keep it and nurse it back to health. "Ari hated telling her no," laughed Dagmar. "He would have given her the world if it had been in his power to do so." 

"He must have been an extraordinary man."

"Oh, yes, he was," said Dagmar, her eyes wistful. "He was very protective of Sigyn...but I think he would have liked you very much." 

"I am truly sorry that I never had the chance to meet him." 

Soon the meal was finished, and Loki rose from his seat. "As much as I would love to continue talking with you Lady Sigmundsdottir, it appears that it is getting late. I don't want you travelling home in the dark. Perhaps Sigyn can accompany you back to the courtyard; the palace can be rather intimidating a place to wander alone." 

They said their goodbyes, and Sigyn walked her back to the waiting coach. 

"Sigyn," said Dagmar, the moment they were out of earshot of Loki, "I cannot find the words to express my excitement for you. My daughter with a _prince_! Darling, he is delightful." 

"I'm so happy you approve, Mother. He means so much to me." 

"The way he looked at you, Sigyn - I daresay you mean quite a bit to him as well." 

She hugged her mother tightly before helping her back into the carriage, promising she would see her soon, before she went back inside. Loki was waiting for her in the corridor. 

“I think that went rather well.” 

“Loki, I’ve never seen my mother so charmed. I'm afraid she may try to take you for herself.” 

“That’s a shame,” he replied, a small frown on his face. “She will be devastated to know my heart is already spoken for.” 

“Perhaps it's for the best," said Sigyn, moving in to place her arms around his waist. "I'm not sure I'd want to compete against her for your affections. What my mother wants, my mother gets." 

"And what about you?" he asked, kissing her forehead. "What do you want?" 

"There's only one thing I wish to do right now," she said, kissing Loki's jaw and working her way around to his ear. In the most seductive voice she could muster, she whispered, "Sleep." 

He laughed. "I recall being interrupted this morning," he said, cupping her head in his hands. "First we need to finish what we started. Then we can _both_ sleep." 


	11. Chapter 11

Several weeks passed, and though Sigyn and Loki fell into a comfortable routine, she realized that being the companion of a prince would take some getting used to. 

Since news of their relationship had become common knowledge around the palace, Sigyn found it to be increasingly difficult to interact with the rest of the staff. There was never any outright mistreatment, but Sigyn was no fool. She could see the looks they gave her, the insinuations of suddenly being set apart from them.   

She really had no deep friendships to lose and mourn, as it had never been particularly easy for her to make friends with the other workers in the first place. Edmund’s protective nature had effectively discouraged any of the male staff members from talking to her outside of what was required by her duties. On the other hand, many of the female staff members were only interested in befriending Sigyn as a way to get to Edmund or his fellow Royal Guards. 

However, the last thing she wanted was for everyone to think she was abusing her newfound privileges as Loki’s companion and lover. She made it a priority to treat others in the palace with renewed respect and politeness, no matter how difficult it sometimes proved to be. 

Once, she had been sent to bring one of the Queen’s dresses to the palace seamstresses, and had overheard a snippet of a conversation between two of them as she entered the room. _That handmaiden, Sigyn? I suppose she thinks she’s better than the rest of us now she’s caught herself a prince. But it’s only Prince Loki - she obviously didn't set her sights high enough._

Sigyn had retreated hastily before she was seen, gathering her wits and clearing her throat loudly before she reentered. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking, but they had seemed somewhat abashed when they saw her, treating her with the utmost politeness. They knew better than to be disrespectful to her face, but it still disturbed Sigyn to know what others were saying when they thought she was not around to hear. 

Despite her apprehension, Sigyn had not said a word to Loki about any of it. He had become very protective of her, almost to the point of possessiveness, and she surmised that he would likely react badly if he knew. She did not want the responsibility of another staff member losing his or her job on her head, hurt feelings or not. Sigyn wanted to be sure that she could handle her new circumstances without his intervention. 

To Loki’s great consternation, she also chose to sleep at her own apartment more often than not. Loki made it clear that he preferred having her in his bed - not yet _theirs_ , a small but important distinction to Sigyn - every night, but she didn’t let his frustration deter her. If she gave up her place at her apartment and her relationship with Loki suddenly turned sour, the only other option would be for her to move back in with Dagmar - something she desperately wanted to avoid. For her own sanity, she knew she needed to retain some of her independence, and staying in her own bed most of the time was the best way to accomplish that. 

She loved Loki, and loved being with him, but that did not mean she was willing to completely give up what little autonomy she had left. She had allowed Edmund to have control of her life for so long - she was reluctant to allow Loki the same amount of power over her. He would just have to understand.

* * *

Loki met her outside the Queen's chambers after her duties, as he always did, but Sigyn could tell immediately that something was wrong. He was usually so excited to see her and spend time with her, but on this day his features were guarded. If Sigyn didn’t know better, she would think he was on the verge of tears. 

“What’s troubling you, love?” she asked. She moved in to hold him - but his embrace was weak and lacked its normal warmth. 

“Thor and I had a meeting today, with our father and his advisors. It seems that a decision has been made - Thor is to be crowned king in six months’ time,” he said. “A delegation from Vanaheim will be visiting Asgard three weeks from now, and the official announcement will be made at the gala being held in their honor.” He stared at the floor. “I don’t know how to feel about it.” 

“What brought this on? Why now?” 

“Father says he has grown weary of the throne. He thinks Thor is ready to lead.” He shook his head. “I’m not so sure he’s right.” 

“Can you not voice your concerns to your father in private?” 

He scoffed. “He would never listen to me. He would dismiss any of my concerns as fueled by jealousy.” 

“What of your mother? Would she be able to intervene on your behalf?” Sigyn felt as though she was grasping for anything that might ease his mind, but she was at a loss. 

“I cannot run to my mother any time something doesn't go my way, Sigyn. Besides, she always defers to my father’s judgment on matters such as these, and rightfully so. I don’t suppose a king would be looked upon favorably if he allowed his wife to influence him too much.” 

Sigyn bristled at his implication. “I don’t believe for one moment that you think your mother’s opinions are not worth considering.” 

“I didn’t say that, Sigyn. I only meant my _father_ may not feel the same way.” He grabbed her hands, a loud sigh escaping his lips. “I know you intended to stay at your apartment tonight, but would you consider staying with me instead? Being with you would soothe my anxiety.”

“I don't know…I didn’t come prepared to stay the night.” 

“Well, what if I stay with you there?” 

“After what happened the last time? I'm not sure that's a good idea.” 

For a moment, Loki’s eyes held their usual glint of mischief. “I’m sorry Edmund had to hear anything. I can’t help it if you’re so… _vocal_.”

“You swore to me that you cast a spell on the room to stifle any sounds.” 

“Did I?" he asked, looking wounded. "You must have misunderstood.” 

“No, I understood perfectly. I think you enjoyed torturing him.” She cringed at the memory of what her brother may have heard before leaving the apartment in disgust, his muttered obscenities clear even through her closed bedroom door. *

“Maybe a bit,” he said. A small smile appeared on his face, fading away as quickly as it had come. A heavy silence passed between them before he looked up at her, his eyes serious. “Sigyn, please stay with me tonight. I don’t want to be on my own.” 

He had a way about him, managing to look so innocent and vulnerable that it made her heart ache. She couldn’t help but question his motives, but he made it so difficult to resist. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll stay tonight. I just need to go home and get some clothing for tomorrow.” 

“Excellent," he said, shining his usual bright smile. "Let me go with you.” 

“That’s fine,” she said, “but I swear on Yggdrasil - if Edmund is home we’re making a quick retreat.” 

* * *

 

The next day, Sigyn’s list of duties was fairly short. Loki had informed her that the Queen’s favorite dressmaker was going to come in and discuss her dress for the gala. 

Sigyn was astounded at first, attempting to protest such a luxury. _You will be attending not as my mother's handmaiden, but as my guest. As such, you will be afforded the very finest clothing Asgard has to offer._ It was yet another reminder that being Loki’s companion - while not without difficulties - certainly had its privileges. 

Introduced only as Ranka, the dressmaker was a willowy woman, spare and efficient in her movements. She entered the Queen's chambers, and without any preamble, held Sigyn out at arm’s length, sizing her up and muttering under her breath. Finally, she looked Sigyn in the eyes, declaring “Oh, I have just the dress in mind for you.” Sigyn was a bit taken aback, thinking she would have more say in the design, but she said nothing. She was evidently going to be expected to defer to Ranka’s expertise. 

The dressmaker laid out several swatches of fabric for Sigyn’s perusal, going into great detail about the features and materials used on them. Each one was more sumptuous and beautiful than the last - and every single one of them a variant of emerald green. When it was clear that Ranka was finished, Sigyn sighed. “Forgive me," she said, running her fingers over the fabric. "Do you have any other colors from which to choose?” 

“Well, of course. However…” Ranka paused, considering her words. “Prince Loki…he suggested these.” 

Sigyn took it for what it undoubtedly was - a not so subtle way of marking her as his - and it caused a sudden surge of rebellion to flare up in her mind. She wanted _some_ say in the final design, even if it was only the color. “I'm sorry, but I don’t want a green dress,” she said, smiling to hide her irritation. “Show me something else.” 

The dressmaker opened her mouth to reply, floundering at Sigyn’s resistance. “I’m not sure-” 

“I’m sure,” said Sigyn, cutting her off firmly, yet redoubling her efforts to sound polite. “Please, show me something else. Anything other than green.” 

“As you wish.” Ranka returned to her bag, sorting quickly through the other swatches to find comparable fabrics. 

"He's not going to appreciate you going against his wishes." 

Sigyn started at the new voice, thinking she and Ranka were alone. She turned to find Sif approaching her, an amused look on her face. 

"Lady Sif," said Sigyn. "I did not hear you come in. Are you getting a dress made as well?" Sigyn asked, wincing at the inanity of her question. Sif didn't seem the type to be keen on small talk. 

Sigyn had only ever talking to Sif in passing, never having had the opportunity to spend any length of time with her, much less talk to her alone. Sif tended to be aloof and intimidating around people she didn't know well, and Sigyn was anxious to see if she would be any more relaxed in a private setting. 

"Not exactly," said Sif. "I only agreed to have a new tunic made for the gala. It's not as easy to hide my knives in a skin tight dress." 

Sigyn was about to ask if Sif was joking, but from the look on the warrior's face she thought better of it. She didn't appear to be the jesting type when it came to her weapons. 

"Well, at least you will be comfortable," said Sigyn. She indicated the dressmaker's paraphernalia. "Frankly, I'm a little new to all of this. Does it ever get easier? Being the companion to a prince?" 

"In some ways, yes." said Sif, smiling at Sigyn. "I must say, I am impressed that you would not defer to Loki's opinion on everything. He can be rather _persuasive_ when he wants something." 

"I am well aware, believe me. I'm actually quite grateful that he isn't here right now. I'm certain he would try to convince me to rethink my color choices." 

"You know, I'm not sure Loki fully appreciates what he has in you. You are much stronger than I thought you would be." 

"I like to think Loki appreciates my strength, even when it goes against him." 

"I'm sure he does, whether he would admit it or not." She tilted her head. "You love him." It wasn't a question. 

"Yes, I do. You seem surprised." 

“To be honest, I’m grateful for any woman willing to put up with him,” said Sif. “He’s never been the easiest person to get along with, but Loki deserves happiness as much as anyone else. He certainly seems to have found it with you.” 

"And I with him. Truly." 

"I hope for your sake that it remains that way, Sigyn." 

Sigyn was about to ask her what she might mean, when Ranka returned from her bag with a handful of new swatches. "Here. Let us choose between these fabrics, shall we?" 

"I will just wait over here until you are finished," said Sif, walking to the other side of the Queen's chambers. "Sigyn, it was a pleasure to finally talk to you." 

"For me as well, Lady Sif," said Sigyn, watching as Sif walked away, her bearing as proud as any male warrior Asgard had ever produced. Sigyn couldn't help but think that she could learn a thing or two from Sif about being a strong woman among temperamental men. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *You can read the extended version of this story in my one-shot "Interlude", which can be found in the list of my works under likeatumbleweed. :)


	12. Chapter 12

_He_ _’s running, but he’s not sure if it’s from something or toward something, or if it even matters._

_The burn in his chest grows hotter with every step, and he can feel his legs growing heavier, but he pushes on, faster, harder._

_Without question, he knows that he can’t stop, he can’t even slow down. If he does, something terrible will catch him or something wonderful will slip from his grasp. Maybe both. The thought frightens him - and he hates being scared. Fear is a weakness._

_A few more steps and he sees her. She’s facing the other way, so he calls out to her. “Sigyn!” She turns to him, her face beaming, her smile - oh! her_ smile _\- but it falters, her hand flying to her mouth and her eyes wide. She sees what’s chasing him and she’s terrified._

_It’s brief, only a moment, but he stumbles. Just a small hesitation, one missed step - but it’s enough. He’s caught in a swirl of fog, bitter and stinging cold. She calls out to him but the fog obscures his vision and she's gone._

_He turns to see what’s behind him and-_  

Loki’s eyes flew open, his heart hammering in his chest and his breathing ragged. _Just a dream, it was just a dream._ He started to move, quickly realizing that he must have been struggling in his sleep, and that he had managed to tangle the lower half of his body in the sheets and furs that covered his bed. He knew that much thrashing about would surely have awoken Sigyn, and he started to reach for her, needing to calm himself in her arms. His hand hit empty space, however, and he remembered he was alone. 

It had been a long week of entertaining the delegates from Vanaheim. Loki had been caught up every day and most evenings in the rituals of diplomacy and politics, and as a result, he had barely seen Sigyn outside of the times she had accompanied the Queen in her duties. 

He had convinced her to spend the night most nights, to make up for the time they were missing during the day. She hadn’t objected; in fact, she had been more than willing, considering his mother had needed more of her time than usual. Staying at the palace allowed her to be available to the Queen much quicker than she would have been had she stayed at her apartment. 

Yet, even though she had stayed at the palace with him almost every night, they had not made love once all week - not for lack of wanting, but out of sheer physical and mental exhaustion on both of their parts. The week and all of its various activities were finally culminating in the gala that evening, and he didn't care how tired they were after it was over - neither of them were sleeping that night until he'd had his fill of her. 

Sigyn had stayed at her apartment the night before, telling Loki that since she was attending the gala as his guest, she wanted time to prepare herself in peace. She also told him she did not want to walk to the palace in her new dress, and that he could send a carriage to collect her like a proper gentleman. Loki had agreed, laughing to himself that even though they had been as physically - and emotionally - intimate as any two people could possibly be, she could still insist on chivalry when it counted. 

He disentangled himself from his bed, rising to prepare for the long day ahead. The dream was already fading from his mind, but Loki couldn’t shake the sense of unease it had produced. He hoped it wasn’t a portent for the rest of the day; it was going to be difficult enough to sit through the official announcement of Thor’s upcoming coronation without the lingering sense of dread. He was finally going to get to spend some quality time with Sigyn for the first time in days. He refused to let anything ruin his plans. 

* * *

Sigyn had just arrived home to get ready for the evening, when a young man arrived to deliver an enormous box from the dressmaker, Ranka. 

She set the box on her bed and lifted the lid carefully, not sure exactly what to expect in the finished product. She had been to the dressmaker’s shop several times since her first meeting, getting small adjustments and measurements taken for the process - yet she had never seen the full dress completed. She moved the paper inside the box aside, lifting the dress up and out. 

Simply put, it was exquisite. In her wildest dreams - even as a child imagining her future bridal gown - Sigyn had never envisioned a dress as stunning as this one. 

Fashioned from light gold silk, it was covered in row after row of gold embroidery, glittering even in the dim light from the windows. The neckline was cut to enhance her modest bust, giving her cleavage she had never been able to achieve before, culminating in sleeves that were in two pieces, made to leave her shoulders bare. The floor-length skirt was full and flowing, with layer upon layer of fabric both sheer and opaque, embroidered and not. A matching shawl in the bottom of the box completed the ensemble. 

Sigyn’s sole concession to the suggestions Loki had made to Ranka was the corseted waist. Made of overlapping pleats of fabric, it was a perfect mirror to Loki’s formal clothing. Sigyn had kept quiet about the details of her dress to him, hoping that once he saw the finished product, he would think it lovely enough to overlook the fact that she had rejected nearly all of his ideas on color and style. She could only hope that he wouldn’t be too disappointed, as it was much too late to do anything about it. 

She didn’t want him upset with her, not after the week they’d had. Most evenings, by the time they were both in his chambers together, there hadn’t been enough energy between them to do more than just undress and collapse into bed - usually falling asleep in each other’s arms without even a good night kiss. Her frustration and longing for intimacy had become acute enough to nearly drive her mad. 

She was just about to draw a bath when there was a knock at the door. Answering it, she was surprised to find her mother on the other side. 

"Oh, I'm so glad I caught you," said Dagmar, pushing past Sigyn into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. "I would have been waiting for you when you got home, but I seem to have misplaced my key." 

"Oh, I'm sure it will turn up," said Sigyn, knowing full well that Dagmar's key was at the palace in Loki's chambers, well out of her mother's reach. "This is unexpected, Mother. I don't mean to be rude, but I need to get ready for the gala tonight, so..." 

"I'm here to help, my dear. We haven't visited in a while, so I thought we might talk while you're getting ready." 

"Oh, well, alright...that would be nice, Mother," said Sigyn, knowing it would be pointless to try and argue with her. "Make yourself at home while I take a quick bath." 

Sigyn bathed quickly, putting on her robe before joining her mother in the sitting room. Handing her hairbrush and some hairpins to Dagmar, she sat on the sofa so she could help her with her hair. 

"So, I take it things are still going well with Prince Loki?" asked Dagmar, brushing Sigyn's hair back and starting a braid on the side of her head. 

Sigyn knew her mother was attempting to sound nonchalant, but she was obviously fishing for information. "Yes, of course. I wouldn't be attending the gala tonight as his guest if they weren't." 

"There's no need for sarcasm, Sigyn. I just mean...are you still happy with him?" 

"Very much so," said Sigyn, turning to look at Dagmar. "Why do you ask?" 

"Oh, it's nothing, really..." Dagmar let her words die out, clearly searching for the right way to phrase what she was really wondering. "It's just, well, I've heard rumors through friends that you've been spending the night at the palace quite a bit lately, and..." 

"And you wish to know if I'm sleeping with him?" Sigyn hated to be blunt, but she was quickly losing her patience. She knew her mother would drag out the vague questions interminably if she allowed her to do so. 

Dagmar drew in a sharp breath, attempting to act shocked. "Well, I don't want to be crass, Sigyn," she said, affecting a hurt tone in her voice. "I'm only curious, that's all." 

Sigyn patted her mother's hand, looking up at her from her seat. "It is true, I have been staying overnight at the palace on occasion. And when I do, I stay with Loki in his chambers," she said, a small smile on her lips. "I do hope that's enough information to satisfy your curiosity." 

"Yes, I believe you've said enough, dearest," said Dagmar, combing through another section of Sigyn's hair. "I trust he treats you well, then?" 

"I have no complaints," said Sigyn, wishing her mother would drop her uncomfortable line of questioning. She wondered if there was something more to her curiosity. When Dagmar spoke again, she had her answer. 

"I don't suppose he's ever hinted around about making your situation more...permanent?" 

"Permanent? You mean marriage?" 

"Well, yes," said Dagmar, finishing another braid and pinning it up. "It seems the next logical step in your relationship." 

"Mother, it's only been a few months. Can Loki and I not just enjoy each other's company for a while longer?" 

"Your father and I were only together a few months before he asked me to marry him." 

"And it worked out beautifully for you, I know." Sigyn sighed. "Honestly Mother, I am perfectly content with the way things are right now. If Loki wishes to propose, then he will do so in his own time. For my part, I have no desire to rush things." 

"Darling, I meant no offense," said Dagmar, brushing the last of Sigyn's hair and letting it fall down her back. "You can't blame me for thinking on these things. For wondering when I might have grandchildren to dote on." 

"So that's what this is all about," said Sigyn with a laugh, rising to check her hair in the mirror. "You know, Edmund seems rather serious about Ingrid. Why not ask him about _his_ intentions? He is just as capable of providing you a grandchild as I am." 

"I know, Sigyn. Perhaps I _will_ ask him. Ingrid is a lovely young girl, and she seemed quite taken with him when we met." 

"I know she is glad you approve of her, Mother, as is Edmund." She walked to her room to retrieve the box with her gown, carrying it back into the sitting room. "Now...will you help me dress? A carriage has been arranged to pick me up soon. I want to be ready when it arrives." 

* * *

Sigyn finished getting ready just as the carriage arrived to take her to the palace. Her mother had been in awe of her gown, remarking at its craftsmanship and how it made Sigyn look like a princess. The dress fit her like a glove, glittering and swaying as she moved; wearing it, Sigyn truly _felt_ like royalty. 

Looking through the carriage window as it pulled into the palace courtyard, she could see Loki waiting for her. He was dressed in his ceremonial armor, just as he had been the night of the Queen's birthday celebration. He was missing only his helmet, which Sigyn knew he preferred to wear only when necessary, as uncomfortable as it was. Yet even without it, he still took her breath away. 

The carriage stopped, and she waited for the coachman to open the door and help her out. She took a deep breath as she exited the carriage, anxious for Loki to see her all dressed up. 

The moment her feet touched the ground, Loki was at her side, taking her hand. He held her at arm's length, looking her over, his face a mask of undisguised consternation. 

After a moment, she couldn't stand the scrutiny any longer. "Well, now would be the perfect time for a compliment," she said, indicating her gown. 

"It's...quite beautiful," he said, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's just not what I expected." 

"What were you expecting?" she asked, trying to hide her disappointment at his reaction. "A different color perhaps?" 

"Well, yes. I was quite clear to the dressmaker about my preferences." 

"As was I. And seeing as I'm the one who has to wear it, I thought maybe _my_ preferences outweighed yours," she said, hurt clear in her voice. She removed her hand from his, smoothing her palms down the front of her dress. "Is there nothing you like about it?" 

"Forgive me, darling," he said, shaking his head and pulling her in to him. "The dress is beautiful, but you are more beautiful still. In fact," he said, leaning in close, "you look most beautiful wearing nothing at all." 

Her stomach flipped at his words, and she couldn't help but smile. As frustrating as he was, he made it difficult for her to stay mad at him for long. "Well, I believe I can arrange for a private showing of that particular outfit later this evening." 

"I'm looking forward to it," he said, holding his arm out for her. "More than you could possibly know." 

* * *

To Sigyn's surprise, she and Loki were not seated together at dinner. Instead, she found herself seated by a woman named Svana, the wife of one of the delegates from Vanaheim. Loki was seated diagonally from her across the table, caught in a heated discussion with two of the other delegates for most of the meal. Now and again he would manage to steal a glance toward Sigyn and smile at her. She could only smile back, admiring his obvious conversational skills from afar. 

Near the end of the meal, Odin stood at his seat, and the room quieted, awaiting his words. Sigyn listened halfheartedly, instead focusing her attention on Loki as his father made the announcement of Thor's approaching coronation. 

To anyone else watching, Loki would not have appeared different from any other day. But Sigyn knew his face well, and she could tell - from the set of his jaw, his down turned eyes - that even though he had advance notice of the announcement, he was still displeased. As she watched, he downed the rest of his wine in one swallow, grabbing a passing servant to refill his glass the moment it was empty. 

She hated to see him unhappy, but she knew her hands were tied. There wasn't anything she could do but make herself available for him when he needed her, whether he wanted to discuss his feelings or not. 

Finally, the meal was complete, and the tables were cleared and removed to make way for the guests to visit and dance. As soon as he could, Loki found his way to Sigyn's side. 

“Come, dance with me,” he said, grasping her hand in his. “I can't take another moment of political diplomacy. I’ve barely been able to spend any time with you alone this evening, and I’m desperate for your company.” 

They made their way to the center of the room, and Loki pulled her close, swaying to the music. As they danced, Sigyn felt the crowd fade to the background, lost as she was in Loki's embrace. 

“You look absolutely breathtaking tonight, love,” he said, looking apologetic. “I am truly sorry if I didn’t make you feel that way earlier. Honestly, if it would not be frowned upon in polite society, I would claim what is mine and ravish you right here.” 

Sigyn flushed, astounded that not only would he be so bold in a crowded room, but that his words still had such an effect on her. “I think you’ve had a bit too much wine,” she said, glancing around to see if anyone could hear them. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” 

“Oh, don’t I?” he asked. “Shall I be more specific?” He leaned in close to her ear, and proceeded to go into mind-numbingly explicit detail on what exactly he planned to do to her when they finally made it back to his chambers. Sigyn couldn’t stop the small groan in her throat at the images he brought to her mind, leaning heavily on his shoulder to keep from buckling on her suddenly weak knees. 

“You’re positively wicked, teasing me like that,” she whispered. 

“Oh, I'm not teasing. Sleeping next to you every night this week with no relief - now _that’s_ teasing.” He looked at her, sincerity in his eyes. “I fully intend to make up for lost time when we're finally alone.” She could only smile back, her imagination running wild with possibilities. 

They made a few more turns as the music wound down. Just as the song ended, a booming voice broke into their reverie. “Pardon me, brother, but may I have the next dance?” 

Loki turned from Sigyn, giving Thor a withering look. “Thor, I love you - but I don’t think you and I are properly matched as dance partners.” 

“You are quite humorous, brother. You know I mean to dance with your lovely companion.” 

Loki opened his mouth to speak and paused. His hold on her tightened ever so slightly, and Sigyn thought he was about to tell Thor no, but he turned to her instead. “What say you, darling? Would you mind dancing with my brute of a brother?” 

Sigyn looked at Thor. “I would be most honored, Your Highness.” She glanced back at Loki, and for a moment, she thought she saw a pained look cross his face, nearly undetectable. Then he smiled, and it was almost as though she had imagined it. 

“Excellent,” said Thor, taking Sigyn’s hand. “Don’t worry brother - just one dance and she will be returned to your company.” 

Sigyn extricated herself from Loki’s embrace, kissing him on the cheek before being led away by Thor. A new song started, and she felt herself being swallowed up in Thor’s arms. 

Though Thor and Loki were nearly the same height, Thor’s bulk made him feel so much more immense. Looking up at him, Sigyn felt as though she was dancing with a bear rather than a man. 

“Sigyn, I am so glad we have this chance to talk without my brother hovering over us.” 

“I am too, although, he does not appear to be as happy as you are,” she said, nodding towards Loki, who was standing at the side of the room, drinking more wine and watching every move they made as closely as a hunter would its prey. 

Thor glanced in Loki’s direction, a broad smile erupting on his face. Sigyn couldn't help but think just how truly handsome Thor was, even if he was Loki's complete opposite. “I would not worry about him. From what I’ve observed of the two of you, I’m confident one dance with another man will not tempt you from his side.” 

“You are much more observant than Loki would have me believe, Your Highness.” 

“My brother doesn't appreciate my talents as he should," said Thor with a laugh. "And please, call me Thor. If Loki loves you as much as I think he does, we are practically family. There is no need for formality with me.” 

“Alright. Thor it is.” _Practically family_. Sigyn wasn't sure how to take that. Perhaps her mother was closer to the truth of Sigyn and Loki's relationship than she thought, but Sigyn refused to dwell on it. 

For all of his bulk, Thor was surprisingly light on his feet while they were dancing, and Sigyn told him so. 

"Being a member of the royal family does have its requirements. Dance lessons, etiquette lessons, history, politics...it never ends. I would rather spend every spare moment in the training room." 

He smiled down at her as their dance took them directly past Loki. "I must admit, however, dancing is much more enjoyable with a partner such as you," said Thor, his voice loud. She was certain Loki heard him, as the scowl on his face only grew more pronounced as they passed. 

"Now you're just flattering me. Was that in your lessons as well? How to charm a woman?" 

"No, I come by that ability quite naturally." They made another turn, and Thor nodded toward Loki - still watching them from afar. "My brother on the other hand...he's never had an easy way about him when it comes to women. He has changed quite dramatically since he's been with you. I daresay he seems rather _content_." 

"I would never presume to be the sole cause of his happiness." 

"If not the only cause, then certainly the greatest. And by far the loveliest," he said, brushing a stray hair from her face. 

Sigyn blushed. "And I thought Loki was the one with the silver tongue."

Thor paused, a pensive look on his face. "In all sincerity Sigyn, it's obvious to me - and my family - that Loki loves you dearly. His happiness is my happiness. It makes my heart glad to finally be able to tell you how grateful I am that he has you." 

Sigyn looked into his eyes, the brightest blue she had ever seen, and realized that she had never met a more sincere person in her life. When this man spoke, he spoke only the truth. "I am equally grateful that I have him, Thor. I've truly never been happier." 

The song ended, and Thor walked her back to Loki. "Brother," said Thor, "you are quite the fortunate man, having a companion as lovely and mannered as Sigyn in your life." 

"I am most thankful, believe me," said Loki, reaching for Sigyn's hand. "I trust my brother had nothing but kind words for you about me?" 

"Of course!" said Thor, answering for her and clapping Loki on the shoulder. He turned to Sigyn. "Thank you for the dance, my lady," he said, making a show of kissing her hand before turning to leave. "If you will excuse me, much as I loathe it, I believe I have more mingling to attend to." He winked at her, before he turned from them and disappeared into the crowd. 

Loki pulled Sigyn in close, in a gesture slightly more possessive than loving. "I'm ready to make our excuses and leave this party. What say you, darling?" he asked, urgency in his voice. 

"Won't we be missed?" 

"I doubt it. Everyone here would rather visit with the soon-to-be-king than his lowly younger brother." 

Sigyn knew he was trying to be lighthearted, but she could see the hurt in his eyes. "Well then, take me to your chambers. You promised quite an evening earlier; I'm anxious to see the truth of your words." 

He raised an eyebrow at her. "With pleasure." 

He clasped her hand in his, and they made their way to the exit. As they passed through the doorway, Sigyn happened to glance at the Royal Guard stationed there, just as his eyes widened in recognition. 

"Sigyn?" 

Sigyn stopped in her tracks, her hand nearly falling from Loki's before he turned back. "Völund?" She had only seen him a few times since their disastrous night together, but she knew him immediately. 

He bowed to Loki. "Your Highness." 

Momentarily speechless from shock, Sigyn finally found her voice. "Erm...V-Völund, may I introduce His Royal Highness, Prince Loki Odinson." She turned to Loki, who was eyeing the other man curiously. "Loki, this is Völund Ericson, a friend of my brother," she said, trying to keep her tone casual. She didn't elaborate on her own relationship with Völund, hoping he would take the hint and also keep quiet. 

"It is a pleasure to be properly introduced to you, Your Highness," said Völund, before turning to Sigyn. "You look lovely tonight. I trust you are doing well?" he asked, pointedly glancing down at where she held Loki's hand. 

"Uh, yes...very well," She felt Loki's grip on her hand tighten, his impatience getting the best of him. "And you? Are you still seeing that seamstress? I'm sorry, I've forgotten her name." 

"Mábil. And yes, we're actually engaged to be married." 

"Oh, that's wonderful, really wonderful," said Sigyn. "Congratulations." 

"Yes, congratulations," said Loki, clearing his throat loudly. "Now, if you will excuse us, Völund, Sigyn and I have somewhere we need to be." He smiled at the guard before looking at Sigyn, his eyes boring into hers with barely disguised frustration. 

Sigyn smiled at Völund apologetically. "It was a pleasure to see you again." 

"And you as well, Sigyn." He nodded once more to Loki, "Your Highness." 

Loki pulled at Sigyn's hand, gently but insistently, leading her quickly away and to his chambers. He didn't say another word to her the entire way, his silence deafening. 

Once they were in his rooms, and the door was shut and locked behind them, Sigyn turned to Loki. "Something's troubling you," she said. "What is it?" She was afraid she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from him. 

He walked back and forth in front of the fireplace, offhandedly making a gesture to bring the fire to life as he paced. Finally, he stopped, running his fingers through his hair as he turned to her. 

“That guard. He was awfully familiar with _you_ to merely be a friend of Edmund's. Did you fuck him?” 

Sigyn gasped, shocked by the rudeness of his words. All of the wine Loki had consumed during the gala had clearly loosened his tongue and softened his manners. “What does it matter? I’m not with him. I’m with you.” 

“Just answer me. Did you _fuck_ him?” he asked again, each word spit out through clenched teeth. 

Sigyn took in a deep breath, steadying herself. “No. He fucked _me_ ,” she said, wincing at the words. “Just once. Poorly and unpleasantly, I might add. Long before you and I ever met.” She tilted her head, regarding him with wary eyes. “Loki, you know you weren’t my first, and neither was I yours.” 

“Well, it’s one thing to have the knowledge, but to put a face to it…” His words trailed off, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, as if fighting off an unpleasant headache. “Would that I _had_ been your first,” he said, almost under his breath. He stared at the floor, dejection and defeat marring his features. 

“Well, I’m glad you weren’t,” she said. 

His head shot up. "Why? Am I that terrible in bed?" 

"Of course not," she said, sighing in exasperation. “Loki, my previous experience puts into sharp relief just how superior you are, in every way. Besides, there had to be at least one other woman there tonight who has been in your bed, but I’m not questioning you about _her_. I think I deserve the same courtesy.” 

Sigyn closed the distance between them, putting her arms around his waist. “Loki, look at me. I am yours now, and only yours.” 

She tilted his head up to her, looking him in the eyes. She watched as his anger melted away, replaced with something more akin to regret. 

"Poorly and unpleasantly, huh? How bad was it?" he asked, sounding uncannily like a petulant child. 

Sigyn smiled at him, happy to stroke his ego if it would improve his mood. "Awful. No, _worse_ than awful. Abysmal. And quite...disappointing for me, if you take my meaning." 

"Oh, I think I do," said Loki, pulling her in close, his voice low and his eyes suddenly heated with desire. "Are you saying he never had the pleasure of watching your face as you come undone?" he asked, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Of hearing that sound you make right before, the little whimper that sounds as though you're weeping? Of feeling you shudder around him as you collapse, utterly sated and spent?" 

 At his words, Sigyn felt her face flush, all the heat in her body rushing to her center. " _You_ clearly have," she said, her breath shallow. 

"Oh, yes," he said. "What kind of a man would I be if I didn't satisfy you in bed?" 

"The kind I would only sleep with once, obviously." 

Loki grinned down at her, victorious in the knowledge of his supremacy. 

"Now," she said, taking his hand, "no more talk of previous lovers. Take me to bed and make me forget they ever existed." 

Without another word, he led her across the room, alternately kissing her and shedding his clothes as she reached behind her back to unbutton her gown. By the time they made it to the bed, they were both down to nothing, their clothing unceremoniously dropped to the floor in their wake. 

"You have no idea how desperately I've wanted you this week," he said between kisses, as they fell onto the bed together. "It's been absolute torture." 

"Oh believe me," she said, her hands alternately tangled in his hair and roaming his body. "I understand." 

She pushed him back onto the bed, moving to straddle his legs before leaning over him for yet another kiss. She reached down between them...and pulled back from him in confusion. 

"Is everything alright, love?" he asked, concern on his face. 

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," she said, looking down at his lap. 

His eyes followed hers, growing wide in surprise to find his body decidedly relaxed and uncooperative - completely at odds with the frantic desire so evident in his words and actions. 

"It must be all the wine," he said, blinking rapidly. "Come here, I only need a moment, I'm sure." He pulled her in close, rolling the two of them so he was pressing her into the bed. He began planting fervent kisses down her neck to her breasts, lavishing attention on them before giving up and moving off of her in frustration. 

"I can't believe this!" He curled his hands into fists, slamming them down into the mattress. 

She leaned over him, running her fingers through his hair in an effort to try and comfort him. "Darling, it's alright. It happens sometimes-" 

"Not to _me_ it doesn't!" he yelled, slapping her hand away. He jumped up, throwing on his robe and stalking back and forth in front of the bed. "This is ridiculous," he muttered, disappointment and embarrassment clear in his voice. "Not good enough even for this." 

She watched him, feeling helpless. "Come here, love. It's enough if you just hold me tonight. It's been a long day-" 

He stopped pacing, whirling to face her. He was so angry, he was completely oblivious to the tears spilling from his eyes and running down his cheek. "I'm sure if you hurry, that guard Völund is still at the gala," he said, pointing toward the door. "Maybe, if given a second chance, he can please you better than I can tonight." 

"What? Why would you say-"

"Or better yet, why not find my brother," he continued, his words barely more than a hiss. "You certainly seemed quite happy in his arms earlier." 

"Loki, that's enough," she said, her voice firm. "I want no one but you, and you know it." 

They stared at each other across the bed, the space between them feeling immense. As she watched, all of the anger seeped out of him, and his shoulders fell in surrender. 

She pulled the sheets back on the bed, settling herself in and patting the pillow next to her. "Now, come here." 

Loki sighed in resignation, dropping his robe to the floor and getting back in the bed. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely audible. She didn't know if he was apologizing or criticizing himself, but she was grateful that he had at least calmed down a bit. 

Sigyn gathered him in her arms, laying back and resting his head on her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair and patted his back, at a loss for what else to do. Eventually, she felt his body relax, and she realized he had fallen asleep. 

She lay there for a long while before falling asleep herself, hoping against hope that the next day would seem a bit brighter for both of them. 


	13. Chapter 13

It was just after dawn when Sigyn awoke. Loki had shifted away from her at some point during the night, and was curled around his pillow as though it was the only thing tethering him to the bed. In sleep, he looked so fragile and innocent - so different from the angry and bitter man he'd been the night before. 

Her fear of leaving him alone in such a state was the only thing that had kept her from gathering her things and returning to her apartment during the night. He had said some truly vile things to her, but the way he had collapsed into her arms before falling asleep suggested that he was at least slightly apologetic, if not truly regretful. 

Being careful not to disturb him, Sigyn rose from the bed and quietly made her way to the washroom to clean up and prepare for her duties. If she hurried, she knew that she could make it to the kitchens to get something to eat before she had to report to the Queen. Loki had likely arranged for breakfast to be brought to his chambers, but she wanted to be gone before it arrived. 

She needed some time to think before they talked. His behavior the night before had been reprehensible, vacillating between loving and livid so rapidly that she couldn’t be sure how to react from one moment to the next. She was certain that his overconsumption of wine had been part of the problem, but she knew that its main effect had only been to loosen his tongue to the point of rudeness. The things he had said were obviously on his mind. 

Fortunately for her, Loki had recently convinced her to keep some of her personal items at the palace, for just such an occasion as this. She quickly pinned up her hair, dressed in one of her everyday dresses, and was just about to leave when she stopped. She knew he might come to the wrong conclusion about her absence if she didn't leave a note for him explaining why she was gone. The last thing she wanted to do was make things worse than they already were. 

As she walked to his desk for paper and ink, she had to step over the piles of clothing they had left behind in their mad scramble for the bed the previous night. She glanced at her dress, unable to leave without at least picking it up. It was the nicest thing she had ever owned, and even if Loki didn’t love it, it deserved better than being left on the floor of his chambers all day. She didn’t touch his things; he could tend to his own clothing when he awoke. 

She laid the dress across the sofa at the foot of the bed, and scribbled a quick note for him. She left it on her pillow, knowing he would find it easily when he woke up. He still hadn’t moved, but she watched him long enough to see the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Resisting her sudden urge to climb back into bed with him, Sigyn tiptoed across the room, silently shutting the door behind her as she left. 

* * *

Around the third knock on his door, Loki finally awoke. The light from the window was as a dagger behind his eyes, and he fleetingly wondered why Sigyn hadn't already answered the door.Their relationship had long since become common knowledge to the other palace workers, and she no longer tried to hide when she spent the night. Another knock - likely someone from the kitchens bearing breakfast - and Loki sat up. 

"Enough!” he called out, his voice still thick from sleep. _I swear, one more knock and they will be wearing my breakfast back to the kitchens._  

Fighting off a wave of nausea, he looked to his side. He found a folded piece of paper where Sigyn should have been, his name written on the front in her flowing script. He picked up the paper as he got up, dressing in his robe before crossing the room to answer the door. He opened the note, barely acknowledging the kitchen maid as she brought the food in and set it on his desk.

 

 _Loki,_

_Forgive me for leaving before you awoke. I did not want to disturb the sleep you so obviously needed._

_I wish to talk about last night when we are alone again this evening._ _I want nothing to come between us._

 _I love you,_    

_Sigyn_

“Your Highness?” 

Loki looked up from the paper to the kitchen maid. He hadn’t even realized she was still there. “Yes?” 

He spoke softly, but he could swear he had startled her. “Apologies...I don’t mean to disturb you. My name is Ingrid - I’m a friend of Sigyn’s. Or, I guess, I’m more correctly a friend of Edmund’s-” 

“Yes?” Loki asked again, and this time his voice was stern. The girl looked like she could prattle on for a while, and with the way he felt, his patience was wearing thin. “Sigyn’s not here, if you’re looking for her." 

"Oh, no…I already saw her this morning. She stopped in the kitchens for something to eat, and she asked if your breakfast was being prepared. You see, I was an apprentice for my aunt, an herbalist, before I came to work at the palace…” Something in Loki’s face must have frightened her, and she hurried to finish. “Sigyn thought you may not be feeling your best this morning, so she asked that I use some of my knowledge to prepare a remedy for you." 

At this, Loki was taken aback. He was well acquainted with spells that could cure his raging headache, but the fact that Sigyn would take the time to make sure he was comfortable - even after his treatment of her the night before - was an encouraging sign that he hadn't irreparably fouled things up. “That was very kind of her…Ingrid, was it? You have it with you?” 

Ingrid smiled, visibly relieved at his reaction.  “Yes, Your Highness, right here with your breakfast.” She indicated a flask of hot water with herbs steeping inside. “Be sure to drink all of it. You should feel better in no time.” 

“I’ll see that I do,” said Loki, sitting at his desk. “Thank you for your help.” 

 “Of course, Your Highness.” She bowed to him, wisely recognizing a dismissal when she saw one. Turning on her heels, she hurried across the room and out the door. 

Loki watched her leave, halfheartedly picking up a piece of bread and tearing a chunk off of it. His appetite was nonexistent, but he knew _not_ eating something would only exacerbate the problem. The bread caught in his throat like a stone, so he poured a glass of the herbal concoction to wash it down. 

Without Sigyn's company to distract him, his thoughts inevitably turned to the events of the previous night. He had not been that drunk since he was much younger, when he and Thor were still testing the strength of Asgardian spirits; yet, he still vividly remembered every excruciating moment. 

To his mortification, his body had refused cooperation when he needed it most, but he knew his overconsumption of wine wasn't solely to blame. As hard as he tried not to, he couldn’t help imagining that damned guard rutting into Sigyn - _his_ Sigyn - and the resultant frustration and anger had been his ultimate undoing. 

Illogical as it was, the thought that any other men had seen and experienced her the way _he_ had incensed him. Sigyn had assured him that whatever had been between her and Völund had been unpleasant for her, and long ago. Loki had no reason to believe she was being less than truthful. However, his nagging sense of jealousy - already on the rise from watching her dance with Thor - had overridden what had remained of his rational mind. 

Finding himself unable to confront those who he felt deserved it, he had instead unfairly taken his anger out on Sigyn. And yet, she had stayed, holding him in her arms and smoothing his hair as he slipped into sleep, a gesture he knew was more loving than his actions had merited. 

With all of Loki's previous lovers, the sex had merely been a means to an end, a way to meet his body’s physical needs without any messy emotional attachments. With Sigyn, it was frightfully different. His longing for her was more than just a physical craving, more than even love. It was a bone-deep ache that - if left unchecked - threatened to erase his sanity for good. 

Without even realizing it, Loki had allowed Sigyn to wield an unprecedented amount of control over him and his happiness. He wasn’t content just to be next to her, or even hold her. He needed to be in her, be a part of her, to join her body to his; and yet, even that was never enough. He wanted to breathe her into his lungs, absorb her into his skin, taste her in the very air around him. 

He could not rest until she was such a part of him that even a stranger would see her in his actions. 

He leaned back into his chair, throwing his arm over his eyes to shield him from the sun until the herbs had a chance to work. The sharp pain had finally become more of a dull throb when he heard his door open and heavy footsteps cross the room. “Good morning, Thor,” he said, not needing to uncover his eyes to know who it was. 

“You certainly undressed in a hurry last night,” said Thor, obviously commenting on the clothes strewn across the floor. “Your night must have been as eventful as mine. I swear, if Sif’s desire increased that much at the mere announcement of my coronation, my cock may not survive the night of my actual crowning.” 

Loki rolled his eyes beneath his eyelids. _Of course_ Thor _wouldn’t be troubled by too much wine. Is there nothing the golden son cannot do?_

“I’m so happy for you,” he said, the mockery in his voice once again slipping right past Thor's perception. 

“Are you alright, brother? You look ill.” 

Loki lowered his arm, wincing as the light hit his eyes. “I’ll be fine. It’s nothing a little time won’t mend.” 

“Where is your lovely companion?” asked Thor, glancing toward the bed. “I would have thought to find her here with you this morning.” 

 _And yet you walked right in without knocking. Hoping to catch a glimpse of something that does not belong to you, brother?_ “Mother needed her early,” said Loki, the small lie effortless. At that moment, he would have welcomed a sharp stick in the eye before he would admit to Thor that there was anything amiss between him and Sigyn. 

“I see,” said Thor, reaching to swipe some bread from Loki’s breakfast. “You know, you left last night before I had the chance to thank you.” 

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Thank me? For what?” 

“For everything,” said Thor. “Things seem to be changing so suddenly. It seems we were only just boys, playing together, and now…well, my coronation will be here before we know it.” He looked at Loki, his face radiant with sincerity. “You know, I wouldn’t be able to face any of this without you by my side.” 

“Where else would I be, Thor? You are my brother, and I love you," said Loki, and he meant it. “Besides,” he added with a laugh, “you _need_ me by your side. Everyone knows I’m the brains of the family.” 

“Indeed you are,” said Thor with a smile. “We make quite a team, Loki. Working together, you and I could well be nigh unstoppable.” 

“Yes...unstoppable,” said Loki, and for that one moment, he could let himself believe it. 

* * *

Mid-morning, Sigyn accompanied the Queen to one of the palace's larger sitting rooms. There, they were to visit with the Vanaheim delegation once more before they returned to their own realm. 

 From her vantage point at the side of the room, Sigyn could see the women sitting together at a table, and the men clustered together in a corner. She was too far away to hear the men, but whatever they were discussing had apparently ruffled the feathers of one of the delegates. She watched with concern as his face turned red with indignation, his chest thrown out in defiance. 

At that moment, Loki walked in - late, but looking a great deal improved from when she had last seen him that morning. Whatever Ingrid had concocted for him had clearly helped; he walked across the room, his head held high, showing no signs of discomfort. He caught her eye briefly, quickly nodding at her before joining the other men. 

She watched as Loki took control of the conversation, soothing the angry delegate before the situation could escalate. The man visibly relaxed, shaking his head with a laugh. Loki's unmatched skills in diplomacy never failed to impress her; and yet, all of his tact and subtlety had disappeared with her the night before. Sigyn didn't know if she should be flattered or alarmed that she had such an effect on him. 

"Sigyn, dear - come here." 

At the sound of her name, she turned to see Queen Frigga waving at her, indicating that she should come join the women at the table. 

She approached them warily. "Yes, Your Majesty?" 

"Sigyn, it seems you made quite the impression on your tablemate last night. Svana here tells me you discussed your desire to become a diplomat yourself." 

"Oh, that was a comment made in passing," she said, hoping the Queen wasn't upset. "I was discussing my family, and my father - how I had dreamed of following in his footsteps as a child. Please know, I am content in my service to you." 

"And I am content to have you in my service. Yet, I wonder now if being my handmaiden is the best use of your talents." 

"I am willing to do whatever you see fit, Your Majesty." 

"Spoken like a true diplomat," said Svana with a laugh. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Sigyn. Perhaps being the companion to one so skilled in negotiations has influenced you more than you think." 

* * *

As Sigyn opened the door to Loki's chambers after her duties, she found it to be much darker than she expected. It was still fairly light outside, but Loki had drawn the window shades tight, and as a result, the only illumination in the room came from the fireplace. 

She had seen him earlier in the day with the Vanaheim delegation, but the Queen had been needed elsewhere, and Sigyn had left with her before she had a chance to speak to him. She had no idea what kind of mood he might be in, and the darkness of the room only served to increase her anxiety. For all she knew, his charismatic behavior with the delegates had merely been for show, and her evening with him would be no better than the night before. 

Coming farther into the room, she noticed that the table that sat in front of the fireplace - usually laden with books - instead held candles, a few trays of food, and several flasks of water. Loki was sprawled into a chair beside it, rising to greet her the moment she came into view. 

"What's all this?" she asked, coming a bit closer and nodding toward the table. 

"After last night, I thought I should redouble my efforts to court you properly," said Loki. "I hope you can forgive the lack of wine," he said, sheepishly pointing to the containers of water, "but I thought I should abstain from it for a while." 

"That's probably a good idea," she said, relieved that he seemed to be in a decent mood. "Ingrid was able to help you this morning, then?" 

"She was. That was very kind of you to send her." 

"It took some convincing," she said, making no attempt to come closer to him. "You apparently have quite the reputation with some of the palace workers for your temper. Until last night, I wouldn't have believed it." 

At the set of his jaw, Sigyn could tell that she had touched a nerve, but he quickly composed himself and closed the distance between them. She offered no resistance as he gathered her into his arms. Instinctively, she knew it was the closest she would get to an apology. 

She looked up at him. "Loki, we need to-" 

"Go to bed?" he said, cutting her off. "I agree." 

She sighed. "I was going to say we need to talk." 

He lowered his head. "Yes, of course we do." Keeping his head down, he raised only his eyes to her. "May I kiss you first?" 

Her mind was practically screaming at her to stand firm. _Don't do it...he's manipulating you. You know he won't stop with a kiss._ But her body was starved for him, and she found herself pushing all thoughts of resistance aside and nodding her consent. 

His eyes shone in triumph, and all at once, his mouth was on hers. His kisses were soft at first, but he quickly became possessive and insistent, holding her head in his hand as his thumb gently pushed on her chin to open her mouth to his. 

Loki's hands roamed down her body, pulling at the laces on her dress to remove it. She finally gave up any pretense of control, and she could feel him smiling into their kiss, knowing that his victory over her was complete. 

From that moment, neither of them could get undressed fast enough. They didn't even bother to try and make it to the bed, choosing instead to just fall to the rug in front of the fire as soon as the last of their clothing was discarded. 

They collapsed into a mess of tangled limbs, and before she could catch her breath he had her legs wrapped around his waist and was pushing into her. When she managed to speak, it wasn't objections but declarations of love she found on her lips, returned to her just as ardently as they were given. 

There was nothing gentle about their lovemaking; he was rough and aggressive, his every move that of a man intent on proving himself a worthy lover. The next day would bring bruises and aches that would make even the smallest movements uncomfortable, but in that moment Sigyn was more than willing to endure Loki's affections, whatever their manifestation. 

He shifted himself in a way that changed the angle of his thrusts, and her body seized up - her orgasm so swift and unexpected that she burst into tears, overcome with relief and emotion. Loki slowed his movements considerably, his eyes wide with alarm, before she found her voice. "Please, don't stop...I'm fine...just, don't stop..." 

He took her at her word, finding his rhythm once again as he leaned down to kiss away the tears from her cheeks. In no time at all, he found his own release, burying his face into her neck with a groan as he filled her. 

It wasn't until much later, as she was falling asleep curled up in his arms, that Sigyn realized they had never talked about the previous night's events. She had tried to bring it up once more, but Loki had put her off yet again, telling her that he would rather make up for his awful behavior with actions instead of words. 

To that end, he had taken her once more in front of the fire and then twice in the bed, until they were both simply too exhausted to try and have any kind of meaningful conversation. 

With her last conscious thought, as her body relaxed and the darkness crept in, Sigyn wondered if they ever would.

 


	14. Chapter 14

As Thor’s coronation drew ever closer, preparations for the ceremony began to take priority in every aspect of their lives. Sigyn found herself inundated with tasks from the Queen - everything from making sure announcements and invitations were sent out in a timely manner to helping plan the meal for the post-coronation banquet. 

It was to be a realm-wide celebration, and as such, no expense was spared. It was exhausting work, with the details and minutiae nearly unbearable in their abundance, for both her and Loki. They saw very little of each other most days, and as a result, Sigyn had at last given in to his pestering, staying at the palace nearly every night. 

She was thankful for what little time they could spend together, even though Loki’s moods had remained somewhat changeable since the Vanaheim delegation had visited. He was never again quite as rude to her as he had been that evening, but he so steadfastly refused any discussion of his behavior that Sigyn had quickly given up any attempts at bringing it up again. There was no use in making the time they _did_ have together unpleasant. 

 At times, he would be gone entirely for a day or two, telling Sigyn he was visiting with dignitaries from other realms or finalizing plans for the celebration. When he was home, he would be in the library for hours, or would stay at his desk long into the night, studying spells he insisted were essential to the coronation. More and more often, Sigyn found herself falling asleep in his bed alone, even when he was in the same room. 

And yet, occasionally he would join her, waking her with soft touches and sweet words…and she would welcome him to her eagerly and without fail. She treasured these times, for it was in those moments that she was reminded of why she loved him so desperately, the man to whom she had pledged her life and her heart - at least in her mind, if not yet ceremonially. 

Dagmar continued to hound Sigyn at every opportunity for news on potential nuptials, a subject Sigyn had long since grown weary of discussing with her. For whatever reason - whether he was unwilling or unable - Loki had not made his ultimate intentions for their relationship more clear, but she was not about to pressure him for a proposal. 

She tried her best not to dwell on it at all. She knew the upcoming coronation weighed heavily on his mind. But as he continued to get more distant, and their lovemaking became less frequent, Sigyn couldn’t help but wonder if he was tiring of her after all. 

* * *

With Loki gone yet again, Sigyn had decided to spend the night at her apartment. He had insisted that she could stay at the palace even when he wasn't there, and she usually did, but sometimes she preferred company to solitude. 

She also thought it would be nice to spend some time with Edmund. Their circumstances had changed so much in recent days, she had barely seen him. To her astonishment, she realized she had actually missed him. 

She let herself in, and went directly to the kitchen, not terribly surprised to find her mother at the table with Edmund. She certainly had a skill for showing up unexpectedly, especially if Sigyn had plans. 

"Sigyn!" Edmund rose from the table, his face split into a wide grin. "I'm so glad you're here. I thought I may have to hunt you down at the palace tomorrow to tell you the good news!" 

"Well aren't you happy," she replied. "It must be amazing news indeed." She looked to her mother's beaming face, and immediately deduced what had happened. "You're getting married," she said, snapping her head back to him. 

"I'm getting marr- wait, how did you know?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. 

"Look at her," she said, nodding towards Dagmar. "Honestly, I've never seen Mother look quite so smug and satisfied." 

"Well, can't a mother be happy that at least _one_ of her children is settling down?" asked Dagmar, her words dripping in equal parts sarcasm and triumph. 

Edmund turned back to Sigyn with a sigh. "I'm sorry, I told her not to be that way," he said, almost whispering. "I didn't want to upset you." 

"Don't worry about it - I'm thrilled, _really_." She pulled him in for a hug. "You know, I've always wanted a sister, but I didn't think there was a woman on Asgard who could rein you in," she said, playfully slapping his arm as she pulled away from him. "What made you finally decide to ask her?" 

"Well, I've received a promotion in the ranks of the Royal Guard. It's more responsibility, but more pay. I'll be able to provide for Ingrid properly now." 

"Oh, Edmund, that is wonderful news! Congratulations." 

"Thank you, Sigyn," he said, puffing out his chest. "As of next week, you're looking at the newest sentinel of the palace weapons vault." 

* * *

Though he would never be able to tell her, it was Sigyn who gave Loki the idea he needed to disrupt Thor's coronation. 

He had been ruminating on it for weeks, conjuring various ideas only to dismiss them just as quickly as he could think them up - too impractical, too time consuming, too destructive. Whatever he decided to do would only serve to delay the inevitable, but he knew Thor wasn't yet truly ready for the throne, even if their father thought he was. 

And - if he was being entirely honest with himself - Loki also knew he would get no small amount of satisfaction from tarnishing his brother's celebration. 

Time was running short, and he was nearly to the point of giving up completely, when a discussion with Sigyn one night had him rethinking his strategy. 

"Loki, how many of the other realms have you visited?" 

It had been yet another late night of him studying at his desk, and her voice in the quiet room startled him. She almost never interrupted his studies, and he had almost forgotten she was there. 

He looked up to find her at one of his numerous bookshelves, a large book in her hands, watching him expectantly. 

 "Oh, at least four or five," he said, leaning back in his chair, his back cracking after sitting still for so long. "Why do you ask?" 

"My father used to share stories of the other realms with me when I was small, but I've never had the occasion to travel to any of them myself." She flipped through the pages of the book, too quickly to actually be reading it. She looked nervous, almost sorrowful. 

"Would you like that?" 

"I would," she said, nodding to herself as she placed the book back on the shelf. She remained standing there, staring at the books but not seeing them, lost in thought. 

"Where would you like to go?" _With me_ , he almost added. _I hope you mean with me._  

She turned to him, smiling, all sadness gone and replaced with enthusiasm. It occurred to him that he hadn't seen her smile like that in some time, and it made his heart ache to think he'd been blind to her unhappiness.  

"Well, I hear Vanaheim is very beautiful. Although, I _would_ love to see snow," she said wistfully. "Perhaps Midgard, given that a trip to Jotunheim would be impossible." 

"What, you don't want to risk certain death at the hands of a Frost Giant?" he asked with a laugh. 

She shuddered, shaking her head with a grimace. "Now that is a horrible thought," she said, approaching him. "There are much more enjoyable ways to spend some time, you know," she said, taking his book from his hand and setting it on his desk. "You've been so distracted lately - maybe you could use a reminder." 

She looked down at him, worry creeping back into her features. She appeared for all the world like she was expecting him to dismiss her and return to his book.  

Instead, he pulled her into his lap, all of his studies and worries momentarily forgotten as he did everything he could to put a smile back on her face.   

Much later, after he was certain Sigyn was asleep, he had risen from the bed and returned to his books. The germ of an idea had taken root in his mind. He had been approaching the problem all wrong; why do the hard work himself when he could get others to do it for him? 

The most difficult part had been finding a way into Jotunheim that did not involve the Bifröst and Heimdall’s prying eyes. Loki was no stranger to the hidden pathways among the realms, but finding one to the home of the Frost Giants - a realm largely ignored by most Aesir - had been tricky. It would not do to have his plans thwarted before they even had a chance of being carried out. 

Taking up the disguise of a dark elf of Svartalfheim, Loki had met with a few Jotuns with ties to their king Laufey, convincing them that he shared their hatred of Asgard and wanted their destruction just as badly as they did.  

Having been raised to see the Jotuns as a warmongering, foolish race of monsters, it had taken every ounce of his strength to disguise his revulsion of them. Yet he had managed to school his features into a form of friendliness - if the Frost Giants were even capable of such a thing. 

Loki had never been averse to using treachery and lies when he needed to, especially if it helped him achieve his goals. And yet, he loathed being untruthful to Sigyn about his whereabouts and activities. 

He knew how much she valued honesty in their relationship, but he saw no way of avoiding it. She couldn't know about his plans; if he was discovered, he did not want anyone to be able to charge her with having knowledge of the conspiracy. 

Being a prince, Loki knew he could count on some amount of leniency for his misdeeds. He wasn't certain, however, that Sigyn would be shown the same amount of mercy were she to stand accused. 

Loki knew if any harm were to come to her, from anyone at all, his vengeance would be unmatched, unending...and _unmerciful._  

* * *

Sigyn awoke alone, Loki's bed large and cold when she was the only one in it. He had left yet again the day prior, assuring her that he wouldn't be leaving again before the coronation once he returned. 

She missed him terribly, but she much preferred being lonely when he was gone to feeling alone when he was right there in the same room. It was a feeling she was experiencing more and more often as of late, one she was desperate to be rid of. 

She could only hope everything would improve after Thor was finally crowned, but even that was beginning to seem doubtful. Thor would likely need Loki's time and talents even more as he settled into the throne, and she would be pushed farther and farther into the background. 

Sigyn knew she could either sit idly by, waiting for Loki to decide what to do with her - or she could decide her future for herself once and for all. Being in control of her own destiny certainly seemed more appealing than pining away for something she might possibly never have. 

Later that morning, the Queen gave her hope that her chances for a brighter future were greater than she had thought. 

“Sigyn, we haven’t spoken of it for a while, but I wanted to know if you’ve still given thought to furthering your skills in diplomacy.” 

“Actually, yes, Your Majesty,” said Sigyn, hoping it was the right answer. “But I know we have been so busy; I didn't want to bring it up again until things have settled down. I do hope that I've continued to fulfill my duties to you in a satisfactory manner." 

“Oh yes, of course, my dear,” said the Queen. "I have no complaints." 

"I'm very glad to hear that," said Sigyn, sighing in relief. "Out of curiosity, why do you ask?" 

“Well, I know you remember Svana from Vanaheim. I received word that she would like for you to visit her soon, perhaps after Thor's coronation.” 

Sigyn was momentarily speechless, unsure of how to respond. “I think I would enjoy that very much, Your Majesty,” she replied when she finally found her voice. “I would be most grateful for the opportunity.” 

* * *

The final stages of Loki’s plan had taken hardly any time at all. The Jotuns were smarter than he had given them credit for, yet they never questioned him about his motives apart from what he had told them. 

Their eagerness to retrieve the Casket from Asgard overrode any sense of self-preservation they may have had otherwise. It was a trait that would prove useful in their ultimate failure. Loki knew they would never make it out of the weapons vault alive. 

It had been his last trip to Jotunheim, and he had returned to Asgard a full day sooner than he had anticipated. Upon his arrival, he went directly to his mother’s chambers to surprise Sigyn. He was still keenly aware that he had been neglectful of her lately, and wanted to make it up to her if he could. 

He reached the door to his mother's chambers unseen, silently opening it just enough to slip through the crack. He hoped to catch Sigyn alone, using his magic to hide himself from view so he could be on her before she knew he was there. Perhaps he could even convince her to defile his mother's chambers if the Queen was gone. 

But as he sneaked further into the room, he could hear Sigyn and his mother talking, ruining his planned reunion. They made no indication that they had heard him enter, however, and rather than waste the opportunity, he decided to listen in on their conversation. 

"I would rather not say anything to Loki until after the coronation, Your Majesty. He has enough on his mind without me adding to his burden." 

"That's probably for the best." 

His curiosity piqued at the mention of his name, Loki came closer, yet remained hidden. The two women came into his view, just as the Queen was reaching for Sigyn's hands. 

"If I am to be entirely honest, dear, I will miss you terribly when you go. But I know you are making the right decision for yourself."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," said Sigyn, and he watched as she reached up to brush a tear away from her eyes. "I just hope Loki will be as understanding as you." 

At that, Loki retreated, wanting to leave the room before he was found. It was suddenly all too clear to him. For whatever reason - his lack of attention to her, her boredom of him, or, Odin forbid, _another man_ \- he was certain Sigyn was planning on leaving him after Thor was crowned. 

He slid back out the door, as silently as possible, doing his very best not to break out into a run down the corridor. Something had to be done, and quickly, but it would not do to panic. He had to convince Sigyn somehow, someway, that he couldn't survive if she left. 

For Loki, there was no life without her in it. 


	15. Chapter 15

“Loki, are you ever going to tell me where you're taking me?” 

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I did, now would it?” 

Sigyn sat at the dressing table in Loki’s chambers, brushing through her hair and watching him don his armor in the mirror. After months of planning, Thor’s coronation was just hours away. “Well, I suppose not. I just want to be sure I’ve packed appropriately.” 

He stilled for a moment, regarding her reflection as he adjusted the vambrace on his left arm. “I’m sure what you’ve packed is perfectly fine.” 

Sigyn smiled weakly at him before returning to her preparations. She and Loki had been busier than ever in the final weeks leading up to this day, with their interactions more akin to those of acquaintances rather than lovers. She had become increasingly convinced that his ardor for her had cooled considerably; enough that she wasn't even sure he would care if she travelled to Vanaheim without him after the coronation. 

So she had been shocked when he had informed her only three days prior that he had planned time away from the court for the two of them alone. Shocked - and giddy with excitement. Vanaheim could wait; perhaps getting away from everything and everyone together would set their relationship to rights once again. And if not...well, no one would be able to say she hadn't tried everything in her power to make it work. 

“You won’t even give me a hint?” she asked, closing her eyes in concentration as she pinned her hair into a coil at the crown of her head. She hated to test his patience with her questioning, but the suspense was killing her. 

“No,” he said, his voice startlingly close. She turned in her chair to find him crouched beside it, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Do you not trust me?” 

“Against my better judgment, yes. This time I do,” she said, bracing his head in her hands. 

He grinned at her, his face briefly displaying some of the mischief that had been missing in recent weeks. “Well, that was your first mistake.” 

He stretched up to kiss her, and Sigyn held his head to hers, reveling in the sensations he elicited in her - sensations she had gone far too long without. Endless hours of preparation for today, and all she could think about was how badly she wanted it to finally be over so she and Loki could escape together. She had nearly decided to push him to the floor and begin their own celebration early when he pulled away. 

"Forgive me," he said, pressing his forehead to hers. "As much as I would love to stay here with you, I'm needed elsewhere." 

“I understand," she said, her disappointment threatening to reduce her to a weeping mess. "Can you help me with my dress before you go?" 

“Of course.” 

Her gown was laid out across the bed, tailored with dainty cap sleeves and a full skirt. She dropped her robe and stepped into it, turning so Loki could fasten the buttons that trailed down her back. As she felt his fingers skim lightly down her bare skin before starting with the bottom button, her eyes fluttered closed with renewed hope. The evening couldn't come fast enough, even if Loki _was_ being secretive about their destination. 

As Loki finished with the last button, she spun around, the gold flecks in the pale green fabric shimmering in the dim light. She had chosen the fabric especially for Loki; she knew this day was going to be difficult for him, and she felt that wearing a green dress was the least she could do to show her devotion to him. 

“You look breathtaking,” he said, taking her in. “Are you certain we must stay through the banquet?” 

“Oh, love. Your mother and I have worked hard for months; at least let me see the product of all my labor.” 

“If you insist. But the moment we can sneak away, you are all mine.” 

“All yours,” she agreed, and she was - completely and wholeheartedly - for as long as he would have her. 

* * *

The ceremony was about to begin, and Loki found himself alone near the entrance to the throne room, pacing - something he was doing more and more often as of late. 

He reached to run his fingers through his hair, finding them blocked by the helmet he kept forgetting he wore. He could scarcely keep his mind calm. He stopped, willing himself to relax. He couldn't afford to raise anyone's suspicions. 

So many plans and machinations coming to fruition, the culmination of all his plans imminent after what had seemed an endless wait. But by that evening, it would all be over, and he and Sigyn would be gone. 

Convincing his mother to give up her handmaiden’s services for an entire week had been no small task. He would have taken Sigyn anyway, with or without his mother’s consent, but he was grateful it hadn’t come to that. The Queen was going to be upset enough when she found out his true purpose for the trip - a purpose he hadn't even told Sigyn. 

Thor could have his precious crown. By that time the next day, Loki would have an even greater prize - a _wife_. 

Finding a magistrate willing to perform the rites had been his foremost task. Loki had disguised himself just enough to quell any suspicion of his true identity, but the gold he carried - along with the promise of more when the ceremony was complete - was enough to both keep the man from asking too many questions and ensure his discretion. 

His parents would be furious that he had forgone all the rules of etiquette and royal protocol - in fact, Loki fully expected the queen to insist on planning a more elaborate ceremony upon their return. He wouldn’t deny his mother the pleasure, but he had waited long enough. He was not going to waste another day with the fear of losing Sigyn burdening his heart. 

Loki knew leaving Sigyn in the dark about his plans risked her rejection, but he was confident she wouldn’t refuse him. He had seen the look in her eyes when she told him of Edmund’s engagement - the look that spoke more clearly of her desires and fears than any thought she had ever voiced aloud. 

An overwhelming desire for Loki to marry her…and a deep-seated fear he never would. 

He was certain that’s what had prompted her to look to leaving him. Had he been able to, he would have taken her the very day he had overheard her conversation with his mother, ridding her of her doubts once and for all; yet he knew in this instance, patience would be of the utmost importance. 

Loki had no real hope that the Jotun contingent would make it in time to stop the coronation itself, but they would most assuredly mar the first day of the new king’s reign. Perhaps Thor would even do something foolish enough to make their father reconsider and revoke his power. It was not unthinkable. 

Waiting until after the coronation to escape with Sigyn would serve a dual purpose. His marriage to her was of course primary, but it would also allow him to be gone when Thor put into action whatever ill-advised retaliation he was sure to concoct against Jotunheim. 

But when that happened, Loki planned to be enjoying his marriage bed with his new bride - far away from the distractions that had threatened to take her from his side. 

He heard the doors to the anteroom swing open, and his brother’s booming voice immediately after - _Another!_ \- followed by the sound of something shattering as it was thrown into a fire, likely a goblet of wine. The thought crossed Loki’s mind that Thor’s insistence on destruction - even down to tableware - would certainly prove useful in the coming days. 

Loki stepped around one of the curtains flanking the room, just in time to see his brother stop near the stairs leading to the throne room itself. For a split second, Thor looked almost worried, but the moment he spotted Loki he broke into a grin, confident as ever. 

They made jabs at each other about their helmets and their talents, the playful banter of two brothers belying the truth of their circumstance: one was about to be crowned king, the other relegated to second-best status permanently. Loki had never truly wanted to be king, but he had been raised to think it was a _possibility_. That knowledge alone had certainly appealed to him, even if it was clear now that his father had always intended for Thor to ascend the throne - whether he was suited to it or not. 

And so, as he stood with Thor and the insidious beginnings of guilt began to form in his mind, he was able to push it aside, convinced that was he was doing was right. 

Not just for him, but for all of Asgard.    

* * *

Sigyn stood amongst the honored guests at the front of the throne room, her view perfect for watching the ceremony. She chatted politely with those around her, anxiously looking toward the back of the room every so often for any sign that the coronation was about to begin. 

The crowd began to hush just as she glanced back once more, and this time she was rewarded with the sight of Loki and his mother hand in hand. They approached the throne, their comportment and bearing full of the easy confidence that only those born into royalty could ever truly have. It still astounded Sigyn to know that _she_ \- a minor nobleman’s daughter - had captured the heart of a prince. She just hoped she had what it took to keep it. 

They reached the foot of the stairs leading up to the dais where Odin sat, occupying the throne for the last time as king. His face was inscrutable, giving away nothing as his wife and youngest son bowed to him in reverence before taking their places of honor on the stairs. 

As she watched, Loki turned her direction, his eyes immediately finding her in the crowd. He smiled broadly, and she knew she was going to have a difficult time taking her eyes off of him during the ceremony. The more she thought about it, the more she considered skipping the banquet after all. The sooner she could be back in his arms - doing whatever she could to convince him of her loyalty - the better. 

Just before her thoughts turned completely scandalous, the crowd once again turned toward the back of the room, cheering loudly as the king-to-be made his way down through the dual rows of Royal Guards. He held Mjolnir aloft to the delight of the revelers, the glint of the metal matching the shine of his armor and helmet. He radiated confidence, bordering on arrogance, but his enthusiasm was infectious. The cheers only got louder until he stopped at the base of the stairs, the sound of Mjolnir hitting the floor echoing through the hushed hall as he knelt before his father. 

Sigyn watched as Thor nodded to his friends Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun, perched on one side of the stairs, and then turned to his mother, brother and companion Sif. He winked at the female warrior, and his cheekiness earned a disapproving look from the Queen. 

Watching his behavior, it was unsettling to think that maybe Loki was right - maybe Thor _wasn’t_ ready to lead Asgard - but it was much too late to do anything about it now. Sigyn knew that beneath Thor’s rash and cocky exterior lay the heart of a king, ready to fight and die for the people he loved most dearly. She only hoped that Loki could temper Thor’s boldness with calculation and cunning, ensuring it would never have to come to that.  

Odin rose from the throne, striking Gungnir on the ground to quiet the last of the noise in the great hall. The silence was overwhelming, everyone straining to hear the words being spoken. There had not been a ceremony like this in most of these Asgardians’ lives, and there would likely not be again for some time. Nobody wanted to miss a thing. 

As Odin spoke, Sigyn was surprised to hear a softness in his voice, his words filled with pride and love for his firstborn son. Even so, it carried easily throughout the hall as he led Thor through the ceremony. He spoke of how Thor had been entrusted with Mjolnir - _a fit companion to a King_ \- and then through the oaths upon which Thor would pledge his commitment: to guard the Nine Realms, to preserve the peace, to cast aside all selfish ambition and pledge himself only to the good of the realm - Thor’s _I swear!_ getting louder with each declaration. 

And then at last, the words they had waited so long to hear. 

“I, Odin Allfather, proclaim you…” 

He paused, the silence seeming to stretch on forever, and when he spoke again his words were the last anyone would have expected to hear. 

“Frost Giants.” 

Sigyn barely had time to process what he had said when Gungnir came crashing to the floor again. The guests around her erupted in hushed bewilderment - _did he say Frost Giants?…where?…are we under attack?_ \- as she automatically sought Loki in the increasingly confused crowd. 

She finally found him, huddled together with his father and Thor near the foot of the stairs, and as she fought to get closer to them she could hear the last of Odin’s instructions to his sons. 

“We must hurry. I’ve summoned the Destroyer, but there may be more.” 

They ran off before Sigyn could reach them, and she stopped, trying not to panic. She turned to find someone, _anyone_ with answers, her eyes lighting on the Warriors Three and Sif. 

“Lady Sif!” called Sigyn, hurrying to her side. “What’s happened? Are we safe?” 

“I'm not sure,” replied Sif, her voice unnaturally calm in the growing chaos. “I don’t know how, but it seems Frost Giants have attacked the weapons vault.” 

She continued to speak - something about the Jotuns trying to reclaim an ancient relic belonging to them - but Sigyn barely heard a word. Her eyes went wide in alarm as one thought kept running through her mind. 

Frost Giants. In the weapons vault. 

_Edmund._

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Loki ran through the palace corridors, trailing his father and brother down toward the weapons vault. No amount of planning on his part could have guaranteed a result like this, though he didn’t know whether to scream in frustration or rejoice in the turn of events. 

Thor had been so close to his reward - to have it snatched away from him at the last moment must have been bitter indeed. Loki was thrilled at the thought, even if he was now being forced to adjust his own intentions accordingly.  _There is still time enough to salvage the rest of my plans. The three of us will survey the damage, and then the first moment I can slip away, Sigyn and I can leave. Let the would-be king brood for awhile...alone._  

They turned a corner, and Odin slowed down to a swift walk, causing both Loki and Thor to nearly run into him. 

"Father, why are you slowing?" asked Loki, unease slipping through into his voice. "The guards in the vault...shouldn't we fetch the healers for them?" 

"They are beyond our help now," Odin replied, keeping his head forward. "I sense no survivors in the vault, Jotun or otherwise." 

Sneaking a quick glance at his brother, Loki was unsurprised to see the rage building up in Thor's face. Though occasionally tactless, Thor had always held honor as a virtue more prized than anything else. A disrupted coronation was bad enough, but for Aesir to lose their lives? That was a grievous insult, one Loki knew Thor would be unable to forgive. Not without violent retribution - something Loki was increasingly desperate to avoid being party to. _I just need more time to work this out._  

At last they came to the doors of the vault, still sealed shut as though nothing had changed. Odin pushed them open and entered without hesitation, the confidence of his actions confirming there was no remaining threat awaiting them on the other side. 

The atmosphere inside the vault was radically different from the outside, the air markedly colder, and the stench of death apparent even from a distance. Though the vault guards had died brutally, the Jotuns had fared much worse - their remains were barely more than ashes on the ground, the Destroyer having thoroughly lived up to its name. The massive sentinel was only just replacing itself into its sealed alcove as they entered, its work having been completed mere moments before their arrival. 

The three men descended the stairs to the main passageway through the vault. Loki glanced down at the dead Aesir guards as they passed, their corpses still frozen from the touch of the Jotuns. _It's regrettable it had to come to this_ , he thought; he had hoped the Destroyer would be able to do its work quickly enough to allow the vault guards to survive. _They will be celebrated as heroes_ , _dying valiantly in their service to Asgard. A warrior's death._ He just hoped Sigyn would never figure out his part in their demise. 

He doubted she would, thinking that perhaps it was fortunate the invasion had happened during the coronation after all. No one - least of all Sigyn - would think to suspect him of any wrongdoing with thousands of witnesses to his whereabouts at the time of the attack. 

His father and brother were arguing about the best course of action, neither of them acknowledging his continued presence. It was as though he was invisible to them, his calm demeanor unable to compete with their rising voices and tempers. Just as it had always been. As it would always be. 

It wasn't completely unwelcome, as it gave Loki a chance to observe and absorb, filing away information that would be useful later. Thor suggested that their father take a host of Asgardians and march into Jotunheim - _teach them a lesson!_ \- while Odin was instead recommending patience, rightfully pointing out how unsuccessful the small party of Jotuns had been in their quest. 

Thor would hear none of it. "As King of Asgard-" 

"But you're _not_ King!" bellowed Odin. "Not yet." He stared his oldest son down, his gaze none the weaker for having only a single eye. 

Thor just stood there, as silent as if he had been slapped. Satisfied that he had made his point, Odin brushed past him, retreating back up the stairs and out of the room. 

The quiet in his absence became oppressive, prompting Loki to attempt to break it. "Thor-" 

"I will find those responsible for this transgression, brother," said Thor, staring off into the distance, his teeth grinding in fury. "They will rue the day they made me the laughing-stock of the Nine Realms." Not even sparing Loki a glance, he left the vault, following their father's footsteps.

* * *

Sigyn stepped back from Sif, the dispersing crowd around her suddenly too thick and much too close. 

"Sigyn, are you alright? Where are you going?" Sif's voice sounded very far away. 

"I have to...I need to find..." Sigyn began, unable to finish. She stumbled through the suffocating sea of bodies, feeling faint and trying her best to keep breathing. She was desperate for them to clear away so she could find her way to the weapons vault. It was all she could do to not scream at them - _Move!_  

Having no idea which way to go, she decided to follow the direction she had seen Loki run off with his father and brother. She fought the crowd, pushing and shoving her way through until she saw her opening. Just before she reached it, she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. 

"Sigyn, stop!" 

She turned to the voice, comforting and familiar, and had to choke back a sob. 

"Edmund? Why...how are you-" She threw her arms around his neck, burying her head into his chest with relief. She honestly didn't care how, she was just happy her brother was safe...safe and _alive_. 

"It was a last minute change this morning. My presence was requested here at the coronation instead of in the weapons vault." His strong hands patted her back as Sigyn wept into his chest. 

She raised her head up to him, her face wet with tears. "Who requested you here?" _Whoever it was, you owe him your life._  

"I don't know. I was only told not even an hour ago. Another guard came in to replace me, and told me to come here." 

"Who was it? Who replaced you?" 

Edmund opened his mouth to respond, but a scream stopped him before he could get a word out. 

Sigyn scanned the crowd for the source of the wail, at first fearful that she would see Frost Giants storming through the people, laying waste to them as they passed. Instead, she saw a young woman collapsing into the arms of an older man, her face a tear-stained mask of despair. Sigyn quickly realized it hadn't been a scream of terror she'd heard, but one of grief. 

She had never been introduced to the young woman, but Sigyn had seen her from a distance enough to recognize the blonde hair immediately. _He said her name was Mábil._  

Edmund's voice was grave. "The guard who replaced me - that's his fiancée. You might remember him. Völund Ericson? I think he fancied _you_ once." 

 _Oh, I remember him. All too clearly._ Sigyn's hand flew to her stomach in a useless effort to staunch the nausea gathering there. "Do you think...do you think he could have survived?" 

Edmund looked down at her, his expression a strange combination of sadness and relief. "I doubt it. If I hadn't been switched to coronation duty today" he said, nodding toward the distraught girl, "that could be Ingrid right now." He shook his head, turning back to Sigyn. "Now come. Ingrid is safe in the kitchens, but we need to get you somewhere secure until we know the threat has passed." 

"And what about you?" 

"I need to return to the guard station and await further instructions." A look of horror passed over her face, and he continued before she could object. "Sigyn, it's what I've been trained for. It's my duty to keep Asgard safe." 

"And who will keep _you_ safe?" asked Sigyn under her breath, watching as Mábil was escorted from the throne room, her cries still echoing throughout the hall. 

* * *

Loki gave Thor a little time, hoping his brother would calm a bit before he approached him again. 

He started toward the throne room. He'd had no chance to ensure Sigyn's safety before rushing off to the weapons vault, and he wanted to make sure she was out of harm's way. He passed a group of Royal Guards going the other direction, including one he recognized. He pulled Edmund aside as they went past. 

"Your sister-" 

"She is safe, Your Highness," he replied, anxiously glancing over Loki's shoulder at the other guards as they retreated. "In your chambers. Did you need me?" Edmund's body was nearly vibrating with the need to join his brethren. 

"No, go on," said Loki, waving him away. He knew it had been an age since the Royal Guards had needed to do much more than just stand around and look imposing. He wouldn't keep them from what little excitement the day's events had managed to generate. 

"Thank you, Your Highness," said Edmund, hurrying off down the corridor. 

Loki watched him for a moment. Of course, Edmund had plenty of reason to be thankful right now, especially to Loki - though he would never be able to know. 

Loki had felt compelled that morning to go and check the weapons vault once more, to ensure that everything was in place for the Jotuns' arrival. He had hidden himself from view, sneaking up to the vault unseen, but his surprise at finding Edmund there had been nearly enough to make him lose control of his magic and reveal himself. 

He vaguely remembered Sigyn telling him that Edmund had received a promotion when she told him about her brother's engagement. She hadn't been specific, likely not wanting to bother Loki with the details, and he hadn't given it another thought. Not until he'd found him guarding the vault that morning. 

Removing Edmund from danger had become paramount. He'd still hoped the vault guards would survive the attack, but he wasn't about to take the chance that his beloved's only sibling might be critically injured, or even worse, killed. He knew Sigyn might not survive a loss like that. And if she ever found out about his own involvement? He shuddered at the thought. 

A suitable replacement for the vault had been crucial, and fortunately for Edmund, Loki had known exactly who he would install in his place. He had conjured a quick missive directly into the basket of a palace page, the orders on the outside of the envelope directing that it be delivered to Edmund's superior officer within the hour. There was of course no signature on the note, but Loki knew the royal insignia at the top would be enough to ensure its instructions be carried out without question. 

And they had been - to the letter. Sigyn's former lover had lost his life, but Loki felt it a small price to pay for saving her brother. _He_ certainly wouldn't be grieving over Völund's death, and he didn't suspect Sigyn would either. 

Loki continued down the corridor toward the throne room, hoping Thor had returned there after leaving the vault. He was surprised to find it empty, but the sound of a massive table being overturned in the nearby banquet hall - accompanied by a nearly animalistic roar - gave Thor's location away easily. 

He entered the banquet hall from a side door, coming around an immense pillar to find Thor sulking on the stairs. Loki took in the sight of the upturned table and scattered food, glad that Sigyn wasn't there to see her hard work ruined.

Thor sensed his presence even before he came into his view. "It is unwise to be in my company right now, brother." 

"And who said I was wise?" asked Loki, settling in next to him on the stairs. The fury radiating from Thor was nearly tangible. He knew he needed to settle the situation if he was to have any chance of escaping with Sigyn, but as enraged as Thor was, Loki was afraid it might prove to be an insurmountable task. He turned to the one tactic he was sure would calm him: soothing Thor's enormous ego. 

The Warriors Three and Sif burst into the room at that exact moment, all of them looking primed for a fight. Loki leaned in closely to Thor, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"If it's any consolation, I think you're right. About the Frost Giants, about Laufey...about everything." The change in Thor's expression would have been missed by anyone who didn't know him well, but Loki could tell he'd hit a nerve. "If they found a way to penetrate Asgard's defenses once, who's to say they won't try again - next time with an army?" 

"Exactly!" 

"But there's nothing you can do without defying Father..." Loki meant for the words to settle his brother once and for all, but an all too familiar look passed over Thor's face, and he regretted saying it immediately. "No, no no no no - I know that look-" 

"It's the only way to ensure the safety of our borders!" 

"Thor, it's madness." 

This got Volstagg's attention, even as he helped himself to some of the surviving food from a nearby table. "Madness? What sort of madness?" 

"We're going to Jotunheim," said Thor, rising from his place on the stairs, a smirk on his face. His tone held an air of finality, but it didn't stop the others from arguing with him, trying to convince him of the foolishness of such an action. 

Loki remained silent, his mind racing. It was unsettling how rapidly the entire situation was spinning out of his control. Had the Jotuns arrived even an hour later, he would have been gone. Even now, the marriage rites would have been performed and he and his new bride would have been halfway to their final destination - a hideaway near an Asgardian lake that no one other than Loki even knew existed. Instead, he was being forced to try and remain calm, even as his plans crumbled around him. 

 _There is still yet time_. _Father will catch wind of this and stop us before we can even step foot on the Bifröst,_ he thought, even as Thor finally convinced his friends to ready for a journey to Jotunheim. _He **must**._  

* * *

Sigyn briefly considered many places to wait before deciding to go to Loki's chambers. 

Edmund had been unhappy with her choice, trying his best to convince her to wait with Ingrid in the kitchens, or better yet, at their apartment. Sigyn refused, knowing that Loki's chambers were as safe a place as any in Asgard, perhaps even more so, and the first place she knew Loki would eventually come looking for her. In compromise, she hadn't complained when Edmund insisted on setting two Royal Guards at the door until Loki's return. She knew they would have no chance against any Jotuns trying to get in, but if it made her brother feel better then she was happy to have them there. 

She paced the floor as she waited, stopping occasionally to check her packed bags or peek out into the corridor, hoping to see Loki approaching. Eventually, she grew tired and changed out of her coronation gown, curling up onto the bed and wrapping herself in the furs covering it. Even under the covers, it was becoming difficult to stave off a coldness she knew had more to do with fear than the temperature of the room. _What a disastrous day_.   

She lay in the bed, her mind restless, wondering what this would do to her planned trip with Loki and then chastising herself for being so selfish. Men had lost their lives. Völund was _dead_ , and all she could think about was how happy she was it was him and not Edmund. She felt sympathy for the poor guard's fiancée, but Sigyn hadn't loved Völund. Not the way she loved her brother. Certainly not the way she loved Loki. 

Some time later she was startled by the sound of hurried footsteps crossing the room, surprised to find that she had fallen asleep. The stress of the day's events must have made her more fatigued than she had realized. 

Sitting up, she rubbed at her eyes. "Loki?" 

He was at his wardrobe, rifling through its contents, when he turned to the sound of her voice. He was holding an overcoat she had never seen him wear before. "You need to stay in here for now. The guards outside will protect you." 

"Protect me from what? Are we still under attack?" He was obviously preparing to go somewhere, but not with her. 

"We're safe for now, and I'm hoping to keep it that way." 

She rose from the bed, crossing the room to him. "Where are you going?"  

"Sigyn, Thor is beyond reason at this turn of events," he said, throwing the overcoat over the nearest chair and moving to his dressing table. He opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a pair of gloves before turning back to her. "He is determined to do something foolish. I _must_ try and work out a peaceful solution to this mess." 

She looked closely at the gloves he held in his hand. They were made for cold weather, and her heart fell. "You don't mean...you don't mean to travel to Jotunheim." She searched his face, hoping he would deny what was quickly becoming all too clear. "Do you?" 

He just stared back at her, eyes sad but resolute. "We won't be gone long. When I ret-" 

"No! No, you can't go!" She ran to him, throwing her arms around him as if her willpower alone was enough to keep him in place. "You can't possibly reason with those vile creatures! Please...please, stay here with me." She couldn't get the vision of a sobbing Mábil out of her head, and the fear that she could be in the same situation made the nausea she had been fighting all day return with a vengeance. It was nearly enough to make her retch. 

Loki pulled her in close. "Sigyn, I need you to listen to me. If I don't go with Thor, and something happens to him...I would never be able to forgive myself." 

She raised her eyes to him, shaking her head in denial. "And if something happens to you? What would become of me then?" 

Loki traced his thumb across her cheek, a gesture meant to comfort, but it only increased Sigyn's anxiety. She clutched his hand to her face, squeezing her eyes shut to focus on the warmth of his skin. _If he leaves, I may never feel his touch again._  

"I will return to you, Sigyn, I swear it. And when I do, be ready to leave, just as we intended. I'll not let this attack ruin what I had planned for us." 

She sighed, finally resigned to the fact that he was determined to go no matter what she said or did. "If you swear it, then I guess I have no choice but to trust you." 

He leaned in, kissing her gently - almost reverently - before pulling away. "I must go. Thor wanted to leave as quickly as possible." He was halfway to the door before Sigyn called after him. 

"Wait!" 

She rushed to the dressing table and pulled open a drawer, retrieving a small pair of scissors and two hair ribbons. As quickly as possible, she plaited a small lock of hair at the nape of her neck, tying it off at both ends with the ribbons before snipping it clear of her head. 

She ran back to Loki's side, holding the hair out to him like a prize. "Take this with you, for luck. To bring you back to me." 

He took the braid from her outstretched hand, twirling it between his fingers. As she watched, the strands became more and more translucent, until finally they disappeared entirely. 

"Where did it go?" she asked, running her fingers over the palm of his now empty hand. 

"Somewhere safe," he said, pulling her in for one last embrace. "Remember, be ready to leave upon my return." 

She only nodded at him, rooted to the spot as he turned to leave. Her hand lingered on his arm until he was out of reach, dropping to her side limply as he pulled the door open and stepped through. He glanced back once more before shutting the door behind him. 

"I love you," she said belatedly, and the only response from the empty room was silence.  

 


	17. Chapter 17

__"_ Things are not always, things are not always, how they seem…they don’t turn out always, don’t quite turn out always, how we think. Will we be ready?" - [Imogen Heap, 2-1](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0-LC2vyge4) _

* * *

_He's not coming._  

Not until the six of them were assembled in the courtyard did Loki begin to lose hope his father would get word of their plans in time to stop them from leaving. Every moment that passed was a moment they were closer to actually reaching the Observatory and making it all the way to Jotunheim. 

Loki's diplomacy skills were unparalleled, but he had serious doubts about how effective he would be in dealing with the jotuns this time around. He'd had a simpler time of it disguised as a dark elf, but that had been with lower-ranking jotuns, not the king himself. Loki wasn't sure Laufey would be nearly as open to negotiations while dealing with a prince of Asgard - especially one who was acting on behalf of his warmongering brother. 

As the rest of his group packed up their weapons, Loki strode over to the closest Royal Guard as nonchalantly as he could manage. 

"I need you to listen to me carefully, do you understand?" He kept a smile on his face, hoping that if Thor happened to glance over he wouldn't get suspicious. 

Satisfied he had the guard's attention, Loki continued. "The moment our horses are moving faster than a walk, you are to go straight to the Allfather and tell him we have left for Jotunheim." 

The sentinel looked at him with wide eyes, the click in his throat as he swallowed the only sign of any apprehension in his otherwise placid features. 

Loki's grin expanded ever so slightly, and the guard recoiled the tiniest bit. "The very life of your future king depends on your quick action. Have I made myself _perfectly_ clear?" 

"Yes, Your Highness," said the guard, nodding curtly. 

"Excellent." 

Loki turned on his heels and rejoined his friends, swinging up onto his horse just as the others were settling into their own saddles. Thor smiled over at him, his excitement at the prospect of battle and bloodshed etched all over his face. Loki just smiled back, trying his best to conceal his irritation and frustration at the continued delay of his plans. 

"Come, my friends," said Thor, turning to the group. "Let us show these jotun monsters what a grievous mistake they have made. Let them know the strength of Asgard has not dimmed - that with their actions, they have called down the wrath of the finest warriors in the Nine Realms!" He turned his horse, not even waiting for an answer before spurring his steed down the Bifröst. 

When they reached the Observatory, Heimdall was waiting for them on the bridge itself, already aware of where they wished to go and why. Tasked with protecting the borders of Asgard, the guard was more than a little rattled by the breach in security; he allowed them to pass almost without question. 

They took their places in the front of the room, heeding Heimdall's warning that they would be left to die on Jotunheim if their return threatened the safety of Asgard. 

"I have no plans to die today," said Thor, his confidence never wavering. 

"None do," replied Heimdall, his resonant voice echoing through the chamber as he activated the structure. 

The white branches of Yggdrasil lit up the room, brighter than the lightning from Mjölnir, and Loki could feel the pull from his center as he was thrust forward, hurtling through the void toward the wastes of Jotunheim. 

* * *

Sigyn sat in one of the window seats in Loki's chambers, looking out at the Bifröst and beyond to the Observatory in the distance. With a heavy heart, she watched as the structure lit up, signaling Loki's departure. She remained in the window for some time, hoping to see a sign of his return, before retreating back into the room, once again pacing back and forth so persistently she was sure she was wearing a path into the floor. 

She was sick with worry, her anxiety verging on outright panic. She had to get some fresh air. 

Opening the door to the chambers, she was stopped by the guards before she even crossed the threshold. 

"Apologies, my lady," said the guard on the right. "His Highness insisted that you remain here until his return." 

"Please, I'll go mad if I stay in here a moment longer." 

"I'm sorry, but His Highness was quite clear about what would happen if we failed to keep you safe." 

The look on the poor man's face told Sigyn everything she needed to know about how unpleasant Loki's threats must have been. She decided to try a different approach. 

"I haven't seen my mother since before the attack...I need to make sure she's safe. You can accompany me yourself if you're worried." 

The guard just shook his head and refused to move. Sigyn knew she was defeated; the guards were much too large for her to push around them, and they evidently didn't care if _she_ was happy with the situation as long as they continued to obey Loki's orders. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deeply to keep her composure. "Well then, is there any way you can send someone to bring me word of her? Just to ease my mind?" 

"Of course, my lady." 

Sigyn told the guard where her mother lived, hoping Dagmar had chosen to return home after the ruined coronation. If not, there were any number of places she could be, and Sigyn wasn't about to test the guard's patience by listing them all. 

The guard agreed to do what he could before turning to his companion. Just before the door latched shut, Sigyn could hear him reminding the other man that under no circumstances was she to leave the room. 

She walked to the sofa in front of the fire and curled up on it, confused by the mixed signals Loki was sending. In recent days he had been so detached; to the point that she had been sure he was trying to distance himself from her. And yet, he had surprised her by planning time away for the two of them together. 

Furthermore, he could have dismissed the guards Edmund had placed at the door, yet he had tasked them with her safety alone...with the additional threat of punishment if they failed. Those were not the actions of someone who felt merely indifferent toward her. 

She had sworn to herself that she would never pressure him into making his intentions for their future clear, but it could no longer be avoided. Nearly losing Edmund had been a sobering reminder that death could take any of them, prince or not. When Loki came back - and she refused to think he wouldn't - she would just have to ask him where she stood with him. 

And if his answer was not what she wanted to hear? As much as it would break her heart, it was better to know for certain and move on with her life than to waste another day wishing for something she would never have. 

* * *

While the many centuries of traversing the realms via the Bifröst had certainly improved Loki's tolerance for the journey, the landings were still physically jarring. He'd needed to become quite skilled at hiding any discomfort. Proving himself strong and capable was a struggle he had long ago grown weary of fighting; he wasn't about to give his brother or his friends any reason to think him weak. 

They had landed directly on the outskirts of what remained of the power center of Jotunheim; the impact from their arrival would have been impossible to miss. It also didn't help that Thor's red cape flared around him like a beacon to any jotuns who may be waiting to ambush them. With nothing but snow and ice stretching out around them, they were terribly exposed. 

"We shouldn't be here," said Hogun, and Loki couldn't have agreed more. What was taking his father so long? Surely that guard had delivered his message by now. 

Their group made their way toward what appeared to be the ruins of a citadel, the creaking and crashing of falling ice only adding to the tension. Loki kept his eyes moving, constantly scanning for any kind of movement, but there was nothing. 

"Where are they?" asked Sif, unease clear in her voice. 

"Hiding," said Thor. "These cowards always do." 

A few more steps and a new voice rang out. 

"You've come a long way to die, _Asgardians_." 

While helping plan the attack on Asgard, Loki had never dealt with their king directly, but there was no mistaking this particular giant for anyone other than Laufey. He sat upon what remained of his throne, looking down on all of them with scorn - and if Loki were to be entirely honest - more than a little sadness. These were a broken people, robbed of their power. That had made using them for his own purposes easy, but even Loki could admit their failure to retrieve the Casket would likely have pushed their desperation to dangerous levels. Caution was essential; one misstep and they would all be dead before Odin could even reach the Observatory. 

"I am Thor Odinson-" 

"We know who you are." 

 "How did your people get into Asgard?" 

The silence stretched out before them, and for a moment Loki thought Laufey wasn't going to answer. When he finally spoke, his words sent a stab of panic through Loki's heart. 

"The house of Odin...is _full_ of traitors." 

 _He can’t possibly know. I was so careful..._ Every move he had made over the past months ran through Loki's head in an unbroken stream, but he tried his best to look unbothered. 

"Do not dishonor my father's name with your lies!" yelled Thor. He raised Mjölnir slightly higher, his thirst for revenge getting the better of him.  

From there, the discussion between the two of them began devolving into threats and insults. Frost giants began to appear all around them, encircling their group and blocking any way out. Loki had had enough. 

He rushed to Thor's side, leaning in so he could speak to him under his breath. "Thor, stop and think. Look around you, we're outnumbered-" 

"Know your place, brother." 

Any other time, such a dismissal on Thor's part would have angered him, but at that moment all Loki could think about was getting them out of a situation that was fast becoming untenable. 

"You know not what your actions would unleash," said Laufey. "I do. Go now...while I still allow it." As he spoke, another giant stepped forward, this one larger than most of the others, and glared down at them. 

This time, Loki didn't even wait for Thor to get in another word, speaking up himself instead. "We will accept your most _gracious_ offer." In the corner of his vision, he could see Thor's incredulous look, but he forced himself not to meet his brother's eyes. They could have words later, once they were safe. He turned away, walking slowly back toward the others. "Come on, brother." 

Thor paused for a moment, practically growling with frustration before turning to follow Loki. The Warriors Three and Sif started to turn back as well, visibly relieved. 

It truly looked as though they were going to be allowed to leave unharmed, when the giant behind Thor spoke up. "Run back home, little _princess_." 

Loki froze. "Damn." 

He barely had time to turn and react before Thor beat him to it, swinging Mjölnir up and hitting the giant square in the face. He hurtled back against the far wall, crumpling to the ground. 

"Next?" 

With that, everything exploded into chaos, giants rushing toward them from every direction. Loki could barely keep track of everyone in the disorder, occupied as he was with keeping himself safe. Once, he heard Volstagg cry out - _Don't let them touch you!_ \- and Loki was able to catch him in the crowd just long enough to see the warrior grasping his arm in pain, the skin turning black from the jotuns' icy touch. If they didn't escape soon, a little frostbite would be the least of their problems. 

Loki continued to summon knives as quickly as he could, throwing them with astonishing precision and felling one giant after another. It had been so long since he had fought anything other than decoys or his brother; he was surprised at how much he had missed it. 

He was continuously looking for a way out when he saw a particularly large giant approaching Thor - who was too busy grappling with three other jotuns to even notice the fourth. Loki was too close to throw his knives with any sort of accuracy, so instead he conjured them into his hands and rushed the jotun, the give of the giant's flesh beneath his knife providing a heady rush. 

He had hoped to be able to stumble back and out of the jotun's reach once the knife found its mark, but the ice under his feet was just slippery enough to prevent him from doing so. As a result, the giant's hand lashed out as he fell to his knees, grabbing Loki's forearm in his throes of pain. 

No amount of struggling on Loki's part could wrench his arm from the jotun's grip, and he could only watch helplessly as the protection of his glove and armor broke away, the freezing touch of the giant enough to shatter the leather and metal. It happened quickly, his face already forming a grimace, momentarily forgetting his other knife as he waited for the pain to start. 

But the pain never came. What happened was so much _worse_. 

He could feel something radiating outward from _inside_ his arm, and even in his shock Loki recognized the loosening of a spell - _but that can't be right, there IS no spell, what is he DOING TO ME_ \- and when he looked down again, he stiffened in shock. 

His arm was blue - as blue as the Asgardian sky, as blue as Sigyn's eyes, and as blue as the giant who still gripped him tightly, watching with a strange sort of fascination as Loki's arm became an exact mirror of his own. The jotun raised his eyes to Loki's, and Loki could see the realization dawning on him that this was no trick, that this tiny Asgardian was just as surprised as he was at this turn of events, and in that moment Loki wanted nothing more than to erase him from existence. 

The knife in his free hand was a solid comfort, and as he thrust it forward and into the monster's chest, the satisfaction he felt was nearly overwhelming. It was short-lived however, as he lifted his freed arm up for inspection and watched as the color and markings faded and his arm reverted to its typical appearance - the sensation of a spell being put into place as it did so at once intimately familiar and utterly foreign. 

A cry of pain jolted him back to the situation around him, and he spun around to find Fandral's chest impaled upon a sharp spear of ice jutting up from the ground. Another jotun was running toward the wounded man, intending to finish him off in his trapped state, but Loki was able to fire off a well-placed knife, killing the giant before he got too close. Volstagg and Hogun rushed to Fandral's side, prying him off the ice. _Any lower, and he would have been dead on the spot,_ thought Loki. _This farce has gone on long enough._  

"We _must_ go!" he yelled, hoping to catch Thor's attention. 

His brother acknowledged his words - _Then go!_ \- but made no move to retreat from the fight, Mjolnir flying through the air, knocking one jotun after another down in its path before being called back to Thor's waiting hand. 

Loki made a mental note that if they survived - and he was getting nearer and nearer to panic that they wouldn't - he was going to kill Thor himself for so stupidly risking all of their lives. 

No sooner had the notion crossed his mind than the ground shook, and he had to fight to stay upright. He watched in horror as the ice beneath his feet began to crack, and what he had previously mistaken for merely a statue of a hideous beast shook off the thick layer of ice covering its body. It was immense, with a mouth full of sharp teeth and crimson eyes shining bright and wild from its face. 

Instinct took over, his need for survival above all else pushing him to _move move MOVE_ , and he was running flat out back the way they had come, the Warriors Three and Sif by his side - and Thor behind, still doggedly fighting every jotun within sight. 

"Thor!" he yelled once more over his shoulder, and any answer his brother may have given was drowned out by the roar of the beast as it clawed its way free of the last of the ice pinning it in place. 

Putting his head down and spurring his feet to move faster, Loki pushed himself as hard as he could, the crunch of the beast as it closed the distance ringing in his ears. 

* * *

Sigyn was expecting the guard to take a while to find word of her mother, and so she was surprised when a knock came on the door not even twenty minutes after he had left. She jumped from her seat, hurrying back across the room. 

She had barely opened the door when her mother burst through, nearly suffocating Sigyn in a strong embrace.

 "Sigyn! I was so worried about you!" 

Sigyn looked over her mother's shoulder at the returned guard, who looked completely nonplussed. "How did you find her so quickly?" 

"She was actually wandering the halls looking for you-" 

"And he was absolutely no help!" said Dagmar, shooting the guard a hateful look before turning back to Sigyn. "He insisted you were fine, but I wouldn't rest until I saw for myself. I had to find Edmund to vouch for me before _this_ one would bring me to you." 

"And as you can see, he was telling the truth," she said, nodding her thanks to the guard before ushering her mother into the room. "Why don't you come in and keep me company for a while." 

"That would be lovely, dear." Dagmar took in the room, not even trying to hide her awe of the surroundings. "So, this is where you spend so much of your time," she said, looking directly at the bed as she spoke. 

"Well, yes," said Sigyn, rolling her eyes while her mother wasn't looking. "Among other places." 

"Oh, of course," said Dagmar, and by the tone of her voice Sigyn knew her answer had been interpreted to mean that she and Loki spent the entirety of their time finding new and unusual places to defile one another. She started to clarify, before deciding the embarrassment wasn't worth the effort. Let her mother think whatever she wanted. 

"And where is His Highness?" asked Dagmar, as they settled on the sofa. "I would have thought to find him here with you." 

Loki hadn't explicitly told her to keep his whereabouts secret, but Sigyn instinctively knew her mother was the _last_ person who needed to know of his trip to Jotunheim with Thor and the others. She chose to remain as vague as possible. 

"He's with his brother, looking into some information about the attack today." 

"Oh, I do hope they are able to find those responsible. That was an awful business with those guards," said Dagmar, even as her gaze continued to sweep through the room. "To think it could have been Edmund." 

"I'm sure their families are devastated," said Sigyn. She had seen Mabil's sorrow firsthand, but she also wondered about the second guard in the vault. Had he been married? Did he have children to mourn him the way she mourned her own father? When this was all over, she would make it a point to find out and reach out to them, to offer her condolences. Not only did she feel it necessary, but it would have the added benefit of proving to Loki that she had the proper skills for diplomacy - and if it came to it, the poise required to represent Asgard as a member of the royal family. 

She felt her mother's hand on her cheek, pulling her from her thoughts. "Are you feeling well, darling? You look ill." 

It took every ounce of Sigyn's self-control to not scream at her mother - _My brother was nearly killed today, and now the man I wish to spend my life with has travelled to the least friendly of the Nine Realms to face almost certain death. What could possibly be wrong with me?_ \- but she held her tongue. As cynical as she could be toward her mother's intentions, even Sigyn had to admit she looked genuinely concerned. 

"I - I'll be fine, Mother. It's just...it's been a trying day for everyone." Her stomach clenched as she spoke; she couldn't remember when she had last eaten something. As worried as she was, she wasn't sure she would be able to keep anything down, but it couldn't hurt to try. "Some food would probably help, but the guards won't let me leave this room." 

"Why not?" 

"Loki's orders. I've already tried to leave once, but they won't budge. Not until he returns." 

"Well, keeping you safe won't do much good if you starve to death," said Dagmar, rising from the sofa. "I'll go find Ingrid and have her bring you something to eat." 

"Thank you, Mother," said Sigyn. Even if her mother had no authority in the palace, Sigyn had no doubts that Dagmar would be able to coerce something out of the kitchen staff if she needed to; she was nothing if not tenacious. 

"Of course, darling,” said Dagmar, turning back to look at Sigyn once more, her eyes full of an emotion Sigyn couldn't quite place. "I only want what's best for you, you know." 

"I know, Mother." It was a strange thing to say, out of place in the events of the day, and her tone was such that Sigyn was momentarily left puzzled. But before she could say another word, her mother had already opened the door and was gone. 

* * *

Loki focused on putting one foot in front of the other, blocking out all distractions as he and the others ran back to their landing spot, trying desperately to avoid being caught by the pursuing beast. He just hoped that the multiple targets would keep the creature confused just enough for all of them to escape. 

He glanced over his shoulder just once, in time to see the sky light up with a flare of lightning. That could only be Thor's doing, and Loki had a momentary flash of relief before the ground began to shake beneath his feet once again. 

A wave of ice and snow began to radiate out from where they had left Thor, cracks in the ground spreading out like a web. The five of them were just light enough that they could continue to keep their feet, but the beast behind them was much too heavy. A massive hole began to open up between it and their group and it began to slip through. It swung its barbed tail around, trying to grasp for purchase in the ice and barely missing Sif in the process, before it fell through completely. 

None of them even slowed down, continuing to run as fast as they could. Loki could hear Fandral chuckling at the beast's demise as he was carried over Volstagg's back. _We're not safe yet, you idiot,_ thought Loki. _Save your mirth for when we're back in Asgard._

Finally, they reached the spot where the Bifröst had opened up, right on the edge of a massive cliff. "Heimdall, open the bridge!" yelled Volstagg, yet nothing happened. Loki knew they were in the right place, thinking perhaps Heimdall was waiting for Thor to rejoin them, when a giant hand came up from the edge of the cliff and buried its claws in the ground directly in front of them. 

Somehow the beast had managed to not only survive its fall, but arrive ahead of them at the landing spot. It hoisted its mass up and over the cliff, and for the first time Loki felt truly afraid. There was no way to escape; the way behind them was blocked by pursuing jotuns and the beast in front of them was much too large for them to take on, especially with Fandral so critically injured. 

One last thought went through Loki's mind - _Sigyn, I love you, I'm so sorry_ \- and the beast opened its maw wide in a thunderous roar. 

A blur flashed overhead, and just before it could snatch one of them up in its jaws it instead collapsed to the ground. Loki could see the massive hole in its head, and as it slipped completely over the edge, Thor came down, landing hard between their group and the edge of the cliff. 

He stood up and turned to the group, looking entirely too pleased with himself for the mess they were in. His grin faded quickly however, when he realized they were not yet out of danger. 

Hundreds of jotuns - led by Laufey himself - had caught up to them despite the destruction left in Thor's wake. This was their home, their _element_ , and no matter how hard the Asgardians fought, Loki knew they were at a severe disadvantage. 

As one, they advanced on their group, and Loki steeled himself, hoping that if he had to die he would at least have the strength to take a few more jotuns with him. But before they could get close enough, the sky split open, the Bifröst opening at last. 

Instead of pulling them up and back to Asgard, however, the bridge was delivering their salvation. Odin landed where the beast had been mere moments before, his steed Sleipnir rearing up into the air and Gungnir flashing in the light. He looked every bit the majestic ruler of the Nine Realms he still was, and the jotuns stopped in their tracks at the sight of him. 

"Father! We'll finish them together!" yelled Thor, the certainty of victory clear in his voice. 

" _Silence_." 

A single word from Odin, hissed through his teeth and colder than the wastes of Jotunheim itself, and even though it was directed at Thor, Loki felt like a small child once again. 

Whatever was coming next, Loki couldn't help but wonder if death would have been easier after all.


	18. Chapter 18

Thor’s shoulders slumped at their father’s admonition, his hammer lowering in defeat. Any other time it would have amused Loki to see his brother so chastened, but the look on Odin’s face promised severe punishment – for all of them.

Laufey summoned ice beneath his feet, raising himself up to meet Odin face to face.

“Allfather…you look weary.”

It was meant as an insult, but Loki was shocked to see just how true the words were. Odin looked exhausted and out of breath, almost frail. How long had it been since he had rested?

“Laufey, end this now.”

“Your boy sought this out,” the jotun replied, looking at Odin with undisguised scorn. It was clear he didn’t care who the perpetrator was – all of Asgard would all be blamed equally for what had happened.

“You’re right. These are the actions of a boy; treat them as such. You and I can end this now, right here, before there is further bloodshed.”

Thor never took his eyes off his father. Standing just behind him, Loki could see his body trembling with pent up rage, his continued need for revenge at odds with his subservience to his father.

Laufey regarded Odin indignantly. “We are beyond diplomacy now, Allfather. He’ll get what he came for - war…and _death_.”

“So be it.”

Laufey raised his hand to strike, a dagger of ice conjured in his palm, but before he could land a blow Odin raised Gungnir, a blast of power radiating from the end of the spear. It knocked the jotun king back just long enough for Heimdall to open the Bifröst once again, pulling their group up and away to the safety of Asgard.

The wind in the void was merciless, and Loki wondered idly how he could extricate himself from the situation once they landed, but before he could form any sort of decent plan they were once again in the Observatory. It already seemed a lifetime ago that they had been here, leaving for Jotunheim.

“Why did you bring us back?” yelled Thor. Unsurprisingly, even with death staring them in the face, he felt they had been winning.

“Do you realize what you’ve done? What you’ve started?”

“I was protecting my home-“

“You cannot even protect your _friends_ – how can you hope to protect the kingdom?!” Odin turned to Volstagg, who still held Fandral across his shoulder. “Get him to the healing room – now!”

The Warriors Three and Sif retreated at once, all too happy to leave the sons of Odin to his wrath. Loki knew better than to try and join them. Whatever his father’s punishment, he would be required to face it alongside his brother.

He stood at the side of the room, silently watching as Odin continued to berate Thor, who was obstinately giving back as much as he was getting. Loki had waited ages for this, to see Thor torn down bit by bit – by their father, no less – but now that it was happening, it felt like a hollow victory. _It should never have taken this much to see he wasn’t ready, Father. You have always been blinded in the glow of your favored son._

Thor had finally reached his breaking point, their father having insulted him one too many times – _a vain, greedy, cruel BOY_ – and roared back “You are an old man and a fool!”

The atmosphere in the room changed immediately, all of the fight and venom in Odin’s words evaporating in the ensuing stillness. He looked down at the floor, and when he spoke again, it was nearly a whisper.

“Yes. I was a fool to think you were ready.”

The change in the air was palpable, and Loki felt compelled to do something, anything. No matter how badly he wanted his brother’s humiliation, he never intended it to go this far. He moved closer, speaking before he could even form a plan of what to say. “Father-“

Odin whirled on him, an unintelligible growl escaping his lips as he jabbed a finger his direction, silencing him before he could say another word. Loki stopped short, an overwhelming sense of self-preservation causing him to nearly trip over himself to shrink back, to be invisible once more.

His father turned back in Thor’s direction, his jaw set in a hard line. “Thor Odinson. You have betrayed the express command of your king,” he said, his voice cracking with a sadness Loki never imagined he would hear from him. “Through your arrogance and stupidity, you have opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and desolation of _war_.”

The last word was punctuated by the crash of Gungnir as Odin slammed it into the Observatory mechanism, the branches of Yggdrasil lighting up the room once more. Loki stared in stunned silence, barely able to comprehend what was happening. Odin descended the steps to Thor’s side and began ripping Thor’s armor apart, piece by piece, the metal sizzling under Odin’s hand as he removed the magic keeping it in place.

“You are unworthy of these realms. You are unworthy of your _title!_ You are _UNWORTHY_ …of the loved ones you have betrayed.”

Thor stared back at their father, his realization of just how dire his situation was finally settling into his features. Loki couldn’t remember a time when Thor had looked so young and fragile – strong, confident, _mighty_ Thor – and he was shocked at how unsettled he was to witness it. 

Odin looked Thor square in the eye, as though he was hoping to find regret in his face, but Thor just stared back, unable even in that moment to repent for his actions. With a sigh, Odin retreated back up the steps.

“I now take from you, your power!” he said, calling Mjölnir to his waiting hand. “In the name of my father, and his father before” – the remains of Thor’s armor dissolved at his words – “I, Odin Allfather, CAST YOU OUT!”

A bolt of lightning from the end of Mjolnir, and Thor was thrown up and back, his limbs scrabbling for purchase as the Bifrost carried him away in a flash of light. Loki ran toward the opening, looking for a sign of his brother but taking care to stay far enough to the side to avoid being carried away as well. He caught movement just before Mjolnir whizzed past his head, disappearing into the void just behind his brother.

He stood rooted to the spot, his head buzzing in disbelief. Turning back to Odin, he watched as he removed Gungnir from the mechanism, the Observatory slowly coming to a complete stop. He wanted to speak, but he could barely draw breath.

“You sent the messenger to me. Why not come yourself, if you were so concerned?”

“There was no time, Father. I thought you would get word and arrive before-“

“I had hoped that as king, Thor’s greatest asset would be you as his advisor,” said Odin, his gaze fierce. “And yet, now I see I was mistaken in that as well. You cannot advise someone whose anger and retribution you fear.”

Loki took in a sharp breath. “I don’t _fear_ -“

“You cannot hesitate to make difficult decisions, Loki. You were all nearly killed today – if that guard had arrived even a moment later…” He allowed his words to trail off with a shake of his head.

Loki swallowed thickly. “Where have you sent him, Father?”

“To Midgard, the one realm where he may have a _hope_ of survival without his powers.” Odin descended the stairs once more, retreating toward the Observatory entrance.

Loki started to follow him, when a flash of a memory flitted through his mind. His arm, blue beneath the touch of the jotun. If anyone could explain what had happened, it was his father.

“Wait, Father, I need to know-“

“Not now,” said Odin over his shoulder. “I need to think on what has happened…alone.” He didn’t even slow as he walked, brushing past Heimdall and mounting Sleipnir where he waited for him. He spurred the horse back down the Bifröst as quickly as he could, leaving Loki to return to the palace in uneasy solitude.

* * *

Sigyn sat in Loki’s chambers, trying to ignore the oppressive silence and her rumbling stomach as she waited for her mother to return. It was taking much too long, and she had just about decided to try leaving the room once again when she caught the sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor. The door swung in, and her mother’s face peeked around the edge. She was flushed and out of breath.

“Sigyn, come quickly! The servants in the kitchens were talking of someone being taken to the healing room earlier – and I thought I heard Prince Loki’s name mentioned-“

“What?” Sigyn jumped from her seat. “How long ago?”

“I’m not sure, darling,” she said, waving Sigyn toward the door. “Come now!”

Sigyn bolted across the room, only to be stopped once again by the guards at the door. She’d had enough, her frustration bubbling over into white hot rage.

“If Loki is injured and you’re keeping me from him,” she said, hissing through her teeth, “I will see to it the _only_ duty you have for the next ten _years_ is to shovel out the royal stables. Now _move_!”

Dagmar gasped at her boldness, and the guards hesitated just long enough for her to slip past them and break into a run before they could stop her. They were larger than her, but their heavy armor put them at a severe disadvantage in a foot race. She left her mother behind as well, needing nothing more than to find Loki safe and uninjured. 

* * *

Loki went directly to the healing room upon his arrival at the palace. Sigyn was safe in his chambers; he wanted to be sure Fandral’s injuries had been cared for before he went to her. With Thor’s banishment, the rest of Loki’s plans were on hold indefinitely. He wasn’t ready to face her disappointment, not yet.

He arrived just as the healer was leaving. Fandral was reclining on a couch amongst the others, his chest completely free of any injury. They all turned to Loki as he entered, but Sif was the first to speak.

“Loki! What happened after we left?” She looked past him to the door. “Where is Thor?”

He was shocked the news hadn’t reached them yet. He took a deep breath. “Thor has been banished from the kingdom for his actions. Father stripped him of his powers and sent him to Midgard.”

Sif’s eyes grew wide. “Banished?”

“Yes. And we should all count ourselves lucky to have been spared the same fate.”

Loki stood to the side, letting his announcement settle over the room like a heavy blanket. Volstagg finally broke the silence.

“We should never have let him go.”

“There was no stopping him,” said Sif.

“At least he’s only banished and not dead – which is what _we’d_ all be if that guard hadn’t told Odin where we’d gone,” said Fandral. For once, he seemed to have the most sense of all of them.

Volstagg hissed as Hogun rubbed a salve onto his frostbitten arm. “How did the guard even know?”

Loki spoke up. “I told him.”

Everyone turned to him in shock. “What?” asked Fandral.

“I told him to go to Odin after we’d left. He should be flogged for taking so long – we should _never_ have reached Jotunheim.”

“ _You_ told the guard?” asked Volstagg, incredulous.

“I saved our lives – _and_ Thor’s,” said Loki. _You should all be grateful to me, and_ still _your only concern is Thor._ “I had no idea Father would _banish_ him for what he did-“

“Loki,” said Sif, jumping from her seat. “You _must_ go to the Allfather and convince him to change his mind-“

“And if I do, then what?” Loki knew he shouldn’t have been surprised at the level of devotion they were showing to Thor, but it still angered him. “I love Thor more dearly than any of you, but you know what he is. He’s arrogant, he’s reckless, he’s _dangerous_. You saw how he was today…is _that_ what Asgard needs from its king?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, turning on his heels and storming off toward the door. He wasn’t quite clear of the room when he heard Sif’s voice, full of venom.

“He may speak of the good of Asgard, but he’s _always_ been jealous of Thor.”

The door shut behind him, cutting off whatever else the others may have said in response. He stood in the hallway, rubbing his temple and willing his anger to subside. _Fools, all of them._

He brought his left hand down from his head, staring at it as if seeing it for the first time. He turned it back and forth, tracing over it with his other hand, confused but unable to explain what had happened on Jotunheim. His father had been unwilling to listen to him – but perhaps he could get his answers elsewhere. He hesitated only a moment, suddenly desperate for Sigyn’s warmth and comfort, but she would need to wait a bit longer. He turned the other direction, heading to the weapons vault instead. 

* * *

Sigyn burst through the doors of the healing room, counting the heads quickly and coming up short by two.

“Loki?” she asked, looking around in confusion. “Is he alright?”

“You’ve just missed him,” said Fandral. “I assumed he went to find you. To tell you what happened.”

“What happened?” She clutched the neckline of her dress, out of breath and panicked, suddenly realizing who else was missing. “Thor…oh, no – has something happened to Thor?”

The men all looked to Sif where she stood, waiting for her to explain. “Thor has been banished to Midgard.” She looked at Sigyn with a mixture of anger and pity. “Loki refuses to speak to the Allfather about it, to help bring him back.”

“What? Why not?” Thor had nearly been crowned king just that morning, and now he’d been banished? It didn’t make any sense.

“Who knows what motivates Loki to take action or not,” said Sif, in a tone that implied she had an idea, but she wasn’t about to share it with the woman Loki slept with every night. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into him.”

“You give me far too much credit. I don’t hold as much influence over him as you think.”

“And you are being entirely too modest,” said Sif. She approached Sigyn, who was shocked to see genuine sadness on the warrior’s face. “Loki listens to you. Please, if you love him as I love Thor…then you must know I would do anything for his return.”

Sigyn lowered her gaze, unable to face the fear and worry in Sif’s eyes. “I…I will do what I can.” 

* * *

The vault had been carefully cleaned and restored; not a trace of the jotun attack remained. Everything looked deceptively normal. Loki could almost convince himself that nothing had changed, that Thor was happily settling into the throne instead of suffering alone and powerless on Midgard – but the image of his brother being stripped of his armor was still too fresh.

His father’s words echoed in his mind. _You cannot hesitate to make difficult decisions, Loki._ With Thor gone, he was being given a chance to prove his value, to show everyone just how much they had underestimated his powers. But first, he needed answers.

He approached the Casket quickly. Reaching out to it, his arms felt heavy, a sense of dread filling his heart and spreading out into his entire body. His breath was too fast, his hands too shaky, but before he could completely lose his nerve, he grasped the handles on the ends.

At once, a preternatural calm settled over him, and he _knew_. The blue glow traveled up his fingers, and he could feel it in his arms, his torso, every covered and uncovered part of his body – lifting a burden he’d never known he was carrying. It was as if the Casket was an extension of himself, communicating with him in a language he shouldn’t understand – _ice, cold, pain, power, power, POWER-_

“Stop!”

Odin’s voice cut through the fog. He hadn’t even heard him enter the vault.

“Am I cursed?” _Please, say yes. Lie if you must, but say yes. I can’t bear the alternative._

“No.”

“What am I?”

“You’re my son,” said Odin, as though that was answer enough.

“What more than that?” he asked, returning the Casket to its stand and feeling the prickle on his skin as the blue faded away. He turned to face the man he had been raised to love and fear in equal measures, the man whose approval he had fruitlessly sought above anyone else, the man he called father. Odin stood on the vault steps, and even as Loki approached him, the distance between them felt immeasurable.

“The Casket wasn’t the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”

“No.” The word was barely audible, but with it, any remaining hope Loki held dissolved away. He stopped at the foot of the steps, waiting for Odin to continue.

“In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple…and I found a baby. Small, for a giant’s offspring. Abandoned, suffering, left to die.” A heavy sigh.  “Laufey’s son.”

It took all of Loki’s strength to remain standing on his suddenly weak legs. “ _Laufey’s_ son?”

“Yes.”

“Why? You were knee-deep in jotun blood… _why_ would you take me?” _Leaving me to die would have been less cruel than this._

“You were an innocent child-“

“No…you took me for a purpose. What was it?”

Silence, immense and infuriating.

“ _Tell me!_ ”

“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about a permanent peace…through you.”

“What?” _Born to be a king, you said. But not of Asgard._

“But those plans no longer matter-“

“So, I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up, here, until you might have use of me?”

“Why do you twist my words-“

“You could have told me what I was from the _beginning_! Why didn’t you?”

“You’re my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”

_Protect me from the truth?_ “What…that I-I’m the monster parents tell their children about at night?”

Rage, uncontrolled and overwhelming, rose up in Loki, and he could taste bile in the back of his throat. He advanced up the stairs, barely aware that Odin had fallen back a reaching out to him with a single shaking hand.

“It all makes sense now – why you favored _Thor_ all these years! Because no matter how much you claimed to love _me_ , you could never have a _Frost Giant_ sitting on the throne of Asgard.”

Loki leaned over his father’s limp body – _he’s not your father, not really your father_ – the slow, deep breaths indicating he had fallen into Odinsleep.

They were totally alone in the vault, Odin completely at his mercy, and for one fleeting moment Loki imagined how easy it would be to smother him where he lay – _usurper, traitor, TYRANT_ – but before he could act, an image of his mother’s face, devastated and grief stricken, stayed his hand. He grasped Odin’s arm instead, calling for the guards outside the vault. They rushed in, gently lifting Odin up and carrying him away without a word, Loki trailing behind like a lost child. 


	19. Chapter 19

_Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know, I can't let you go, can't let you go, I just want it to be perfect, to believe it's all been worth the fight...Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know ...-_ [Marina and the Diamonds, "Lies"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TN-EIKEghuw)

* * *

The golden aura surrounding Odin’s bed was hypnotizing, the magic swirling and shifting into myriad patterns as it worked to protect and heal. Loki wanted to trace his fingers through it, to feel it course through his skin as he had as a child, but he stayed back. _You shouldn’t be here. You are a blight on this family._

Frigga sat across from him, reaching through the aura to grasp Odin’s hand in hers. Not _really_ his mother after all, but he couldn’t bring himself to harbor any resentment toward her. Her love had never been less than unconditional; it was what had sustained him for so long in the shadow of his brother – until Sigyn came into his life. _Sigyn._ Her words from only hours before – _You can’t possibly reason with those vile creatures!_ – rang sharp in his head. She would never accept him for what he truly was – nothing more than a jotun runt, raised to believe himself Aesir.

He had dreamed of a life with her, marrying her, happily watching her grow fat with as many babies as he could get on her – but those dreams were now gone, frozen forever on Jotunheim. It was ironic really – his powers of sorcery were unequaled, and yet the greatest illusion in his life was not one of his own making, but one that had been conjured upon him. He would have laughed, had it not been so painful.

Loki looked at Odin once more. “I never get used to seeing him like this.”

“He’s put it off for so long now, and I fear…” She left the rest unspoken.

“How long will it last?”

“I don’t know. This time it’s different. We were unprepared.”

 _Unprepared – much like me._ “So why did he lie?” asked Loki, tired of avoiding the topic. He hoped Odin could hear him, hear the anger and resentment in his voice.

“He kept the truth from you so you would never feel different,” she said, the kindness in her eyes nearly more than Loki could bear. “You are our son, Loki, and we your family. You must know that.”

 _A choice you made_ for _me long ago._ “Thor? Does he know I’m jo-“ He stopped, still unable to say it aloud. “Does he know we’re not _truly_ brothers?”

“No. But family is more than blood, Loki. You will always be brothers; the truth will not break the bond you have together.”

“How can you speak with such certainty?” Loki thought of Thor’s actions on Jotunheim, the clear hatred he had for the jotuns – a hatred he himself shared. Loki could barely stomach the truth, and he was by far the more level headed of the two of them. For all he knew, Thor would as soon bash in Loki’s head than acknowledge a jotun brother.

“I speak with the certainty of a mother who knows her sons.”

He sighed. “What does it matter anyway if he is banished? If he never awakens,” he said, nodding at Odin, “Thor may be lost to us forever.”

“We mustn’t lose hope that your father will return to us…and your brother.”

“What hope is there for Thor?”

“There’s always a purpose to everything your father does.”

 _But that doesn’t always make him right_. He stood to leave, weary of the company. He needed to contemplate the new future that had been laid out for him, one he was going to face alone.

He loved Sigyn beyond reason, but she would never willingly choose to be with him once she knew the truth. The thought of her rejecting him for something beyond his control was more than he could stomach. No – he would never allow it to come to that. Better to retain some _shred_ of dignity while he still could.  

He had just reached the end of Odin’s bed when the bedchamber doors were thrown open, a contingent of guards lined up outside.

Loki’s first thought was that they had discovered his part in everything and were ready to drag him away to face punishment for his misdeeds, but then the palace steward stepped forward, Gungnir in his hands. He stopped before Loki, kneeling to the ground and holding the spear out before him like an offering.

Unsure of what to do, Loki looked to his mother.

“Thor is banished,” she said. “The line of succession falls to you. Until Odin awakens…Asgard is yours.”

Slowly, Loki turned back to the steward, reaching out to take Gungnir in his hands. He had always imagined it to be quite heavy, holding the weight of the Nine Realms, but it was surprisingly light in his grasp. Still, Loki could feel its power as it coursed through it and into him, and a plan began to form in his mind – one that would take care of all his problems for good. _Damn anyone who tries to stop me,_ he thought, the merest trace of a smile on his face _. Anyone at all._

* * *

Sigyn ran through the vast halls of the palace, trying to get to the throne room as quickly as possible.

After leaving Loki’s friends, she had looked everywhere for him – his chambers, the library, even his mother’s rooms – with no success. After hours of searching, her hunger had finally been too great to ignore, and she had gone to the kitchens for something to eat, finding Edmund there visiting with Ingrid.

She had questioned him, hoping he had information about Loki, and for once it seemed luck was on her side. He informed her that Loki had been seen leaving Odin’s chambers a short time before, heading for the throne room.

Her food forgotten, she had left them immediately and went straight there, hoping to catch Loki before he disappeared yet again. She arrived to find him standing before the throne, dressed in his full regalia and talking to a few of the guards.

“Loki! Oh, I was so afraid you were hurt…” Sigyn sprinted across the room, throwing her arms around his neck. “The others told me what happened. I’m so sorry, love.”

“Your Majesty.”

Sigyn went stiff at the coldness in his voice, noticing too late that he hadn’t made any attempt to return her embrace. She lowered her arms and stepped back. “Pardon?”

“I think you meant to say… _Your Majesty_.” His pupils were no more than pinpricks, his eyes flat and emotionless.

She looked him over, truly noticing for the first time Gungnir grasped in his hand. “Your father-“

“Has fallen into Odinsleep. With Thor banished, the rule of Asgard has fallen to me until he awakens.”

“So, _you_ are king?” Saying it out loud didn’t make it feel any less strange.

“Yes,” he said, his eyes flickering to the guards on either side of them. “And as such, I must insist on formality.”

“Even with me?” _This isn’t real. I’ve fallen asleep again, and when I wake this will be nothing more than an unpleasant dream._

“Even with you. We are not married Sigyn, not even promised to one another.” 

She thought of her packed bag, still sitting on the sofa at the end of Loki’s bed.“I suppose our plans are on hold then?”

“Yes. For the foreseeable future.”

She had only been referring to their planned time away, but the way he looked at her spoke of a deeper meaning, one more permanent. He wasn’t just dismissing her for now; he was letting her go forever.

She bit her bottom lip, hard enough that she could taste blood, but she could barely feel it. Her entire face felt numb – she had been so relieved to find Loki safe and unharmed, but his frigid demeanor toward her was bewildering. It was as if an entirely different man had returned from Jotunheim. Being witness to his brother’s banishment would have affected him deeply, but this was beyond that. It felt as though Loki was angry at _her_ , and Sigyn couldn’t for the life of her determine why.

“Have I…have I done something wrong?” she asked, her hands splayed across her chest in an effort to calm her suddenly pounding heart.

“No, _I_ have,” he said, leading her down the stairs and away from the guards. “I’ve led you on for far too long. But it stops today. With my changed circumstances, I will likely be expected to marry. Soon, and someone of…” He paused, searching for the right words. “… _equal_ station.”

“But…but I love you. And you said you love _me_.” Sigyn furrowed her brow, certain she was misunderstanding his words.

“To keep you in my bed. An unkindness, perhaps…but effective.”

She dropped her gaze from his and stared at the floor; a slap across the face would have been less shocking – and far less humiliating. She grasped at the skirt of her dress, crumpling it in her fists to help disguise their trembling, wishing the floor would crack open beneath her feet and swallow her up.

“I see,” she said, but she didn’t, not really. She had given Loki everything: her body, her mind, her spirit; yet to him, she had been nothing more than a warm body to keep him company at night. She couldn’t believe it – what they’d had felt too _real_ to be a deception. His capacity for cruelty was clearly far greater than she would have thought possible.

“I can give you the rest of the day, but you will need to remove your things from my chambers by this evening.”

Raising her eyes to his once more, she hoped to see him smiling, reassuring her that this was all just one ill-timed joke, but his expression held no joy. “Is there nothing I can say?” she asked. “Can we not discuss this?”

“Let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be, Sigyn.”

“Of course, Lo-“ She stopped herself, swallowing a bitter laugh. “ _Your Majesty_.” To her mortification, she could feel tears pricking the corners of her eyes, her skin flushed in shame. She was determined he wouldn’t see her cry. “If there is nothing else, I would take my leave.”

“You may go.”

Sigyn curtsied to him, perhaps a little more harshly than was proper, and then spun on her feet, desperate to get distance between them. She allowed herself to look back only once, finding him sitting on the throne, power and arrogance radiating from him even across the room. He was a stranger to her, nothing at all like the man she had fallen in love with, and she wondered if this was the _true_ Loki, kept skillfully hidden from her for so long.

She turned away, her head high and her strides even. She would keep what remained of her pride as long as she could, lest he think she was running from him.  

She had just stepped into the corridor when she saw the Warriors Three and Sif approaching, heading to the throne room. Sigyn’s control over her emotions was tenuous at best; before they could spot her, she ducked behind a column to avoid them, not trusting herself to be able to handle any sort of conversation with composure. As they passed, she briefly considered warning them of what they would find on the throne, but she stayed hidden. They would find out soon enough.

She waited a few moments to be sure she was alone before she stepped back into the corridor, making her way to Loki’s chambers as swiftly as her feet could carry her.

 _Breathe in. Breathe out._ Sigyn repeated the words in her head as she walked, her mind spinning with questions she couldn’t answer. _I just need to make it to his chambers_. Her hands flexed involuntarily, the effort of keeping her tears at bay making her breaths shallow and sporadic. She stopped frequently, willing herself to keep it together long enough to get her things and leave the palace; once she was home, truly home and alone, she would allow her heartbreak to consume her. _Just a little farther._

The doors to Loki’s chambers finally appeared, and what had once been warm and welcoming was now nothing more than a cruel reminder of just how worthless she felt. She had allowed herself to believe that Loki wanted to make this their home together, that he wanted to spend his life with her – yet he had cast her aside with such ease. _Good enough to fuck and use, but not to truly love - and certainly not good enough to marry, especially as king. In all the Nine Realms, there was never a bigger fool than you, Sigyn._

She would have plenty of time to think on everything in the coming week. Her bag was packed, and the queen was already prepared for her absence, since she was meant to be going away with... _him_. Even if that was no longer an option, she wasn’t going to waste the opportunity; first thing in the morning, she would ask the queen for some time away, _far_ away from the new king’s court. Perhaps she could even go to Vanaheim as she had wanted, that very day if possible.

As she hurried through the room gathering her things, it seemed she hadn’t reached the limits of her humiliation. She had brought her belongings to his chambers over months, little by little, and they had accumulated into more than she could easily carry in one trip. She had no more than the single packed bag to transport everything. In frustration, she decided to just pile what she could and then search for a suitable container.

 Her clothing, books, toiletries – things that were obviously hers – were thrown in a heap on the floor as quickly as she could find them. It only took a few moments, but finally she stood over the remains of her time with Loki, hoping she hadn’t missed anything. She held her hands to her cheeks, glancing around the room before stopping on Loki’s wardrobe, still cracked open from before he left for Jotunheim.

The edge of her coronation dress peeked out as it hung there, the pale green fabric shimmering in the dim light. Sigyn crossed the room in a daze, yanking it from the hook and putting her finger through the delicate lace in her haste.  

She stared at where her finger had torn through, blinking in disbelief. At once, her body began to tremble, all of the shame, frustration, disappointment, and rage she had so valiantly held in rushing to the surface in an instant. She bent her finger and tugged it down through the fabric, watching it split apart with ease.

The last of her control gave way, and she grasped the dress in both hands, hooking her fingers and wrenching them through the material, every torn thread and snapped seam a perfect counterpoint to her frayed emotions. She didn’t even recognize that she’d been screaming until the dress was nothing more than ruined shreds of pale green and gold sparkles at her feet, the endless tears on her cheeks burning her skin.

She stared down at the mess she had made, dizzy and out of breath, and noticed a few drops of blood. She could feel a stinging in her hands, and she turned them over to see that in her rush to destroy the dress, the fabric had cut into her palms. With a sigh, she reached down and rifled through the material, pulling out two long strips to use as makeshift bandages. She would better tend her wounds – both external and internal – when she finally got back to her apartment, but for now she would use what she had.

After she was finished wrapping up her hands, she gathered the rest of the dress in her arms. She considered what to do with it, whether to trash it or burn it, when a more appealing option came to mind. She strode back across the room to Loki’s bed. It occurred to her that – even after the countless nights she’d spent in it – she still thought of it as _his_ bed and his alone. With the last of her strength, she threw the dress across the surface, certain he would find it easily when he returned. It gave her a tiny sliver of satisfaction to think that even a heart as cold as his might be moved to see it destroyed as he had destroyed her.

* * *

Many hours later, with his courtly business finished up, Loki made his way to his chambers.

It was going to be a long night spent alone. He had grown accustomed to having Sigyn there with him, but there was no chance that she would be waiting for him this night – he had made sure of that. He thought of the look on her face when he had dismissed her, the horror and devastation she had tried so hard to keep hidden, and for one moment he felt regret before pushing it aside. It wouldn’t do to let his feelings get in the way. Any sort of reconciliation now would only delay the inevitable. As much as it pained him, it was better this way; rejecting _her_ before she could reject him.

After his meeting with Sigyn, the looks on the faces of the Warriors Three and Sif when they arrived in the throne room to find _him_ sitting there had cheered him up considerably, though he’d had to disguise his amusement. They had always been Thor’s greatest supporters, even to their detriment, and Thor’s banishment hadn’t changed that. They would be trouble in the coming days; Loki would need to make sure and keep a watchful eye on them.

He had briefly considered setting guards outside his door, as a show of protection, but decided against it. This was no time to appear weak; anyone wishing to do him harm could be easily dissuaded by setting powerful spells on his chambers instead.

The atmosphere in his rooms was cold and uninviting as he stepped in. Sigyn had clearly gone straight there after their conversation and cleared his chambers of everything that belonged to her, just as he’d asked her to. He glanced around. She had been quite thorough; not a trace of her presence remained. It was almost as though he had imagined her very existence.

He conjured a fire in the fireplace, undressing in its glow, needing to rest more than he ever had in his life. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten anything, and he barely had the energy to prepare for bed.

He hoped sleep – deep, dreamless sleep – would take him quickly, but when he saw what awaited him on his bed, he realized he would be lucky to get any rest at all.

He was confused at first, not grasping what he was looking at, before recognizing the fabric. Sigyn’s coronation dress – or what remained of it – was scattered across the surface, taunting him with its presence. It was an obvious message of pain and loss, and any remaining hope he may have harbored of being able to reconcile with her evaporated in an instant.

The ruined bodice of the dress lay across his pillow, and he reached over to it, lifting it up to breathe in her scent, burning it into his memory. Her belongings were gone but her essence remained, absorbed into every surface of his chambers, into his very being, and he realized belatedly that he would _never_ be rid of her. When she left, she had taken more than just her things; she had taken his heart as well, with no hope of it being returned.

He could already feel the emptiness inside of him beginning to harden. It had been a mistake, letting her get close – one he was determined to never make again.

Looking back to the bed, Loki put his hands out before him, twisting them until they were palm up. Every last scrap of the dress rose from the bed, spinning into a tangle of fabric. He watched it for a moment before balling his hands into fists with a grimace. Flames erupted in the air around the dress, consuming it completely and cauterizing what was left of the wound where his heart had once been.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heartfelt thanks to all of you faithful readers. Your comments, kudos and support mean more to me than I can express. It's funny, when I originally outlined this story, I figured it would be 15 chapters, max - and now look. Twenty chapters in and my muse keeps spitting new things at me. <3

“Sigyn. Sigyn, wake up.”

A man’s voice and a warm hand on her cheek pulled Sigyn to consciousness. “Loki?” she asked on reflex.

“It’s Edmund.”

Sigyn turned toward the voice, nearly rolling off her sofa as she did so, and it all came rushing back to her: Loki’s dismissal, her hurried removal of her things from his chambers, her impassioned destruction of her coronation gown. In her despair, she had somehow managed to find a large box for her things so she wouldn’t need to return for anything, determinedly carrying the heavy parcel home by herself. She hadn’t wanted to embarrass herself further by asking anyone for help.

It was quite late by the time she had made it home to find the apartment deserted, Edmund either on duty or spending the night with Ingrid. Sigyn had had no energy to do more than drop the box near the front door and collapse on the sofa. Loki’s words – real or imagined, it hardly mattered anymore – had been a hideous lullaby to send her into a restless sleep. _You mean less than nothing to me. I never loved you. You are a worthless fool._

“Edmund,” she said, blinking the sleep out of her eyes to find her brother sitting on the edge of the sofa, worry on his face. “Is it morning?” There was heaviness in her voice, a reminder of the unending tears from the night before. She reached for his shoulder to pull herself to a sitting position. She had a splitting headache – whether from her complete lack of food or her emotional turmoil, she didn’t know – and the moment she was upright, a wave of queasiness washed over her. Her empty stomach was the only thing that kept her from vomiting all over the floor.

“Yes, it’s morning. What happened to you? And what’s this box of your things?”

“Oh, that? It’s nothing really,” she said, managing a weak smile. “Loki – sorry, _His Majesty_ \- decided that I’m no longer worth his time now that he’s king. He _did_ give me some unsupervised time to clear his chambers of my presence. It could have been so much worse, you know. He could have insisted guards accompany me like a common criminal.”

She started to laugh - a bitter cackle that rapidly devolved into hitched breaths and renewed sobbing. Edmund pulled her close and she collapsed into him, her tears soaking the front of his shirt. “Edmund, I’m such an idiot.”

“No, sweetheart, you’re not,” he said, patting her back awkwardly, uncomfortable with the role of consoler. “This just doesn’t make any sense, Sigyn. I really thought he loved you.”

“I honestly thought so, too.” She pulled back from him, wiping her cheeks and taking a deep breath to calm herself. “I’m glad you woke me. I can’t exactly show up for my duties like this.”

“Oh Sigyn, Queen Frigga hasn’t left the Allfather’s bedside since he went into Odinsleep. I don’t suppose she’ll need your services until he awakens.”

This was terrible news; it was essential that Sigyn speak to the queen about going to Vanaheim. If she was unavailable, Sigyn’s only other option would be to go to the acting king himself. At that moment, she would have preferred being ripped apart by a wild bilgesnipe to speaking to _him_.

“Here,” said Edmund, rising up from the sofa. “I’ll make us some tea and we can talk.”

“You’re terrible at making tea.”

“Well, I’m even worse at comforting a crying woman. At least let me try, would you?” Without thinking, she reached for his outstretched hand, having completely forgotten about the blood-stained strips of fabric wound around her palms.

He turned her hand over in his with a scowl, ignoring Sigyn’s hiss as he pulled the fabric away. “What is this? Did he _hurt_ you?”

“No,” she said with a sigh. “Well…not physically, anyway. _This_ was all my doing. In my anger, I might have…uh…destroyed my coronation dress and left it for him.” She bit her lip, suddenly all too aware that the new king may have taken serious offense to such an act.

By the look on Edmund’s face, it was clear he was thinking much the same thing. “Do you think that was wise?”

“Probably not, but it’s a bit late now,” said Sigyn. “Besides, if he’d wanted me dragged away for punishment, it would have happened by now. He knows where to find me.”

Edmund went to the kitchen to start the kettle boiling, and Sigyn excused herself to freshen up. Her body was aching all over – likely from spending the night on the cramped sofa – and all she really wanted to do was fall into her bed and go back to sleep. Perhaps when she woke again she would be in Loki’s bed, curled up in the crook of his arm, safe from all hurt and heartbreak. Right where she thought she had belonged.

Instead, she went into the washroom, wincing as she pulled the rest of the fabric from her hands. The cuts weren’t as bad as she’d thought they were the night before, but fresh bandages would be essential to make sure they didn’t get infected. She searched through the washroom cabinet, coming up empty. She would just need to sneak into the palace later and get Ingrid’s help, have her make some sort of poultice to hasten the healing process. Her familiarity with herbs could be quite useful; Sigyn thought perhaps, if she was lucky, Ingrid would even have knowledge of something to help her sleep.

She splashed a little water on her face to clear her head and ran a brush through her messy hair, trying to improve the reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were still puffy and red, but she felt slightly better, more able to face whatever the day had in store for her.

When she walked back to the kitchen, Edmund was waiting for her at the table. “Edmund, I’m really not sure what to do with myself.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, handing her a cup of tea.

Sigyn took a sip; it was stronger than she preferred but warm, and it settled her stomach like a balm. “Well, as much as I love serving the queen, there’s really no way I can continue to do so, is there? I can’t avoid His Majesty if I’m still serving his mother.” It was still difficult to avoid his name.

“I suppose not. Sigyn, I hate to sound selfish, but do you think this might affect my job as well? I can’t provide for Ingrid without work.”

“Oh, absolutely not, I’ll be sure of it. This is between me and… _him_.”

* * *

 The throne of Asgard was proving to be problematic for its new occupant.

Sleep had not come easily to Loki, and what rest he _had_ been granted was marred by hideous dreams of Sigyn distressed and angry – screaming how much she hated him, how she wished they’d never met, how he was a disgusting monster, deserving of every terrible thing to come his way. Once he’d awakened to find tears on his cheeks, and in his anger he had grabbed a vase – filled with flowers by Sigyn herself not three days prior – and shattered it against the far wall of his chambers.

He had needed a distraction – something to take his mind off of her and back to more pressing matters.

Heimdall had been wary of sending him back to Jotunheim, especially alone, but Loki convinced him it was the best course of action. Who better to defuse the rising tension between their realms than the Silvertongue himself? And so, just two days after nearly dying there with his brother and his friends, Loki had once again found himself crossing the wastes of Jotunheim.

Laufey had threatened him the moment he’d laid eyes on him, but Loki’s offer of the Casket for Odin’s death had caught his attention. Loki almost felt pity for them – so willing to do anything for their source of power, to the point of being blinded by a threat even as he stood before them. It was though he was dealing with children, so easily were they swayed.

He had briefly considered revealing his true nature to Laufey – positioning himself as the lost heir of Jotunheim, returned to his true home – but had decided against it. There was no need for the jotun king to believe he had Loki’s allegiance. No one would have his loyalty anymore, no one but Loki himself.

The final arrangements had been made and he had returned to Asgard unharmed – only to be struck by Heimdall’s withering gaze immediately upon his arrival back to the Observatory.

 “What troubles you, gatekeeper?”

“I turned my gaze upon you in Jotunheim, but could neither see you nor hear you. You were shrouded from me like the Frost Giants that entered this realm.”

Loki assured him that nothing was amiss – that perhaps Heimdall’s senses had merely weakened after his many ages of service to Asgard – but the gatekeeper remained unconvinced, accusing Loki of trying to hide something from him. True of course, but Loki couldn’t admit that. He decided to try a new approach.

“You have great power, Heimdall. Did Odin ever fear you?”

“No.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he is my king, and I am sworn to obey him.”

“He _was_ your king…and you are sworn to obey _me_ now. Yes?”

Silence stretched out to near discomfort before he answered. “Yes.”

“Then you will open the Bifröst to no one – until I have repaired the damage that my brother has done.”

Loki could sense Heimdall was watching him carefully as he left the Observatory, waiting for a chance to prove his suspicions correct, but Loki knew he was hamstrung by his overwhelming sense of duty to the realm and its king. Or so he thought.

Not even an hour later, a visibly frightened guard found Loki on his way to his chambers, bearing news he should have been expecting. The Warriors Three and Sif were missing. There was only one place in the Nine Realms they would be heading, and as he stepped onto his private balcony, Loki’s suspicions were confirmed. As he watched, the Bifröst opened up once again, transporting his brother’s traitorous friends to Midgard.

His fury had consumed him, his actions becoming more and more desperate as the moments passed: releasing the Destroyer from the weapons vault to take care of his brother and his friends once and for all; secreting the Casket away, using it to freeze Heimdall outside the Observatory and then opening up the Bifröst to Jotunheim; escorting Laufey and his men to the palace – sending them to Odin’s chambers but staying back himself, under the pretense of collecting the Casket while they held up their end of the bargain. And finally, concealing himself until the moment he could strike the final blow.

Watching Laufey strike Frigga as she fought to protect her husband was the only time he truly felt any fear, and had Laufey not ignored her for the bigger prize, Loki would have revealed himself immediately to ensure her safety. Regrettable as it would be, he could live with Odin’s death, but if any harm came to his mother, every soul on Jotunheim would know just how truly monstrous he could be before he was through with them.

Fortunately for her, Laufey’s only goal had been the Allfather – lying prone and helpless in his bed. The giant straddled the smaller man, but instead of killing him immediately, Laufey had instead spoken to his ancient nemesis.

“It’s said you can still hear and see what transpires around you. I hope it’s true…so that you may know your death came at the hand of Laufey.”

He raised his hand to strike, an ice dagger conjured into his palm, but before he could bring it down into Odin’s chest, a streak of energy from Gungnir knocked him to the ground. Stunned, he looked up to find Loki standing over him.

“And _your_ death came…by the son of Odin.”

Without another word, Loki raised Gungnir once again, erasing his true sire from existence to save the only father he had ever known. He hoped it was enough – enough to finally earn the respect he’d so long desired.

Frigga rose from the floor, miraculously uninjured, and ran across the room to embrace him – her son, her savior. “Loki – you saved him.”

“I swear to you Mother, that they will pay for what they have done today-“

“Loki!”

They both turned to the open doorway, to find Thor, very much alive and furious. Frigga pulled away from Loki to embrace her eldest son, returned from exile against all hope. Loki had given up _everything_ for this moment of triumph, and still Thor had managed to ruin it.

“Why don’t you tell her,” said Thor, his body tense with rage. “How you sent the Destroyer to kill our friends? To kill me?”

Loki backed away, putting Odin between the two of them. “Why, it must have been enforcing Father’s last command,” he said, knowing even Thor wouldn’t believe such a blatant lie but hoping to gain a little time.

“You’re a talented liar, brother – always have been.”

“It’s good to have you back,” said Loki, as though proving the truth of Thor’s words. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to destroy Jotunheim.” Before Thor could react, Loki blasted him squarely in the chest with a burst from Gungnir, sending him straight through the outer wall to fall to the ground far below.

He ran from the room, ignoring his mother’s protests and running as swiftly as he could to the Bifröst. Thor may have been stunned, but Loki held no illusions that he had been seriously injured. He only needed to make it to the Observatory before him.

If he did, there was no way Thor would be able to stop what he had planned – the complete and utter eradication of Jotunheim from Yggdrasil itself.

* * *

It had been long day spent moping in her apartment, but Sigyn hadn’t dared go back to the palace until late evening, hoping that the new king had already retired to his chambers. She looked forward to the day when she would be able to face him with her head held high, but it was still too soon, and she was weary of crying.

Edmund had assured her that he would get a message to Ingrid, telling her to expect her, and it seemed he had been true to his word. She was waiting for Sigyn in the kitchens, already busy preparing an herbal remedy for her when she arrived.

“There you are!” she said, running to her and gathering her in a warm embrace. “Edmund said you were hurt, but he wouldn’t go into detail. He said he’d let _you_ tell me what happened.”

Sigyn held her hands out, palm up, grimacing at Ingrid’s gasp. “I did something foolish last night. I let my emotions get the best of me, and…well… _this_ happened.”

“What in the Nine? How did you do this?” She pulled Sigyn over to the counter, pushing her into a seat while she went back to her preparations.

“Edmund didn’t tell you anything at all?”

“No, nothing.”

Sigyn shouldn’t have been surprised that Edmund would leave any explanation entirely to her. The last thing she wanted was a lengthy description of the events to Ingrid – everything was still too fresh, and despite the pain in her heart, even Sigyn knew that speaking ill of the king to a member of his household staff was a terrible idea. She took a deep breath. “His Majesty released me from the burden of his companionship, and I took it badly.”

Ingrid was agape, the herbal concoction she was preparing completely forgotten. “Oh, Sigyn,” she said, her eyes wide. “You, uh…you need to talk to him. This must be some sort of misunderstanding.”

“I assure you, there was no misunderstanding, Ingrid. He was quite clear about his feelings for me…or lack thereof.”

“No. No, no, no – that’s not possible. He loves you, I know he does. Everyone knows he does.” If Sigyn hadn’t known better, she would have said Ingrid almost looked _afraid_.

“Don’t worry,” said Sigyn. “This won’t impact your employment here, if that’s what’s worrying you.” It came out sounding more irritable than she had intended. She understood Edmund’s lack of tact, but Ingrid was the closest she had to a real female friend. A bit more sympathy for her pain would have been nice.

“I’m not worried about that,” said Ingrid, grasping Sigyn by the shoulders. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine, really,” said Sigyn, bemused by Ingrid’s sudden over-investment in her relationship with Loki. “My heart will heal in time; it’s my hands that need more urgent attention.”

“Right,” said Ingrid. She turned back to the cutting board, her hand on her mouth, her eyes flitting about nervously. For a moment, she looked as though she wanted to say more, but she shook her head instead, gathering the chopped herbs and throwing them in a mortar for grinding.

“Ingrid, what is it? If you want to say something, have out with it. It can’t possibly be worse than what I’ve already heard over the past two days.”

“Sigyn, I-I…I need to tell you-“

The door to the kitchen slammed open, cutting off whatever she was going to say. Another kitchen maid, one Sigyn didn’t recognize, stood in the doorway, her breath ragged.

“Come quickly – something’s happening at the Observatory!”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos/favorites/bookmarks/reviews are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

For the second day in a row, Sigyn found herself running through the halls of the palace because of Loki. She knew she should no longer care about him or what he was doing, but her feelings for him were still too strong to be set aside so easily. She had to know he was safe, even if his concern for _her_ happiness was nonexistent. 

The wind was intense as she and Ingrid stepped out onto a high balcony; a large piece of metal – ripped directly from the façade of the palace – flew past, barely missing Sigyn’s head. Carefully, she ran to the balcony edge, her hands digging painfully into the balustrade as she watched the sight before her in horror. 

The pulses of energy running through the Bifröst were the most intense she had ever seen, the beam of light emanating from the Observatory almost painful in its brightness. It was too far away to make out who might be in it, but she didn’t need visual confirmation to know Loki was among them. 

There were several other palace workers standing around, watching with wide eyes. Sigyn made her way to a group of them, hoping someone would have an answer to reassure her. 

“What’s happened?” 

“I heard a crash earlier, and saw Prince Thor falling from up there,” said a young page, pointing up to a gaping hole in the wall of one of the palace columns. “Not long after, Prince Loki rode by on a horse, heading out to the Observatory as fast as he could.” 

“Prince Thor? Are you certain?” Sigyn wasn’t sure how many people knew of Thor’s banishment; surely this poor page was mistaken. 

“Yes, my lady. He flew past just a moment ago, heading to the Observatory himself. There’s no one has a cape like that one.” 

“Shouldn't someone go check on them?,” asked Sigyn, incredulous. “They might be in danger.” 

Before anyone could answer, Sigyn caught movement in the corner of her eye. She watched in amazement as a golden cape flew past; Odin himself, awakened from his sleep and hurrying to help his sons. She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the Allfather would ensure everyone’s safety. 

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, when the Observatory exploded.

* * *

Loki had never felt such rage in his entire long life. If only Thor hadn’t been so eager to take revenge, if only Thor’s friends could have left him on Midgard a little longer, if only he’d had the chance to carry out his plans unimpeded, if only, if only…it was maddening. 

He had reached the Observatory ahead of his brother, in plenty of time to open the Bifröst and all its power onto Jotunheim. Using the Casket, he had frozen it open, comforted by the knowledge that there was nothing to stop the annihilation of the jotuns’ home – and with it, any remaining evidence of his true heritage. 

But any comfort he’d gained had been itself eradicated with Thor’s arrival at the Observatory. 

 _You can’t destroy an entire race_ , he’d said. This – from the man who had very nearly tried to do just that not three days prior – incensed Loki above all else. Only three days’ time, spent in the company of _Midgardians_ of all people, had changed his brother so completely he could scarce recognize him. And now that Loki had finally embraced the war culture that was so highly prized in Asgard, he was going to be told it was _wrong_? 

“I don’t know what happened to you on Midgard to turn you so _soft_. Don’t tell me it was that woman!” 

Thor said nothing; the look on his face was all the reply Loki needed. 

“Oh, it was!” Three days spent on Midgard, and in that short span of time some insignificant woman had managed to teach his insufferable brother more humility than all the years of Loki’s patient consultation. Whatever sorcery she so clearly possessed, Loki had to know more; and if she was destroyed in the process, the Nine Realms would be all the better for it. 

 “Well maybe, when we’re finished here…I’ll go pay her a visit _myself!_ ” 

Enraged, Thor leapt into the air, his hammer aloft. Loki’s own fury was overpowering, his need to win at all costs devouring the final vestiges of his sanity so completely he could barely feel anything, emotionally or physically. 

They fought like madmen, first inside and then outside the Observatory, even as its power built to hazardous levels. Just a bit longer and nothing – not Loki’s considerable skills in magic or Thor’s strength – would be able to stop it. 

But then Thor – blessed, infuriatingly _perfect_ Thor – had done the one thing Loki hadn’t counted on. He’d taken Mjölnir and began to destroy the bridge itself. 

At first, Loki was stunned into inaction, not believing his brother would have had the tenacity to do such a thing, before finally getting to his feet and sprinting down the Bifröst, Gungnir poised to strike the final blow. 

Loki was nearly to Thor – so close he could almost convince himself he was going to reach him in time – when the bridge finally gave way beneath one final swing of Thor’s hammer. Having nowhere else to go, the energy that was usually focused in the Bifröst suddenly burst outward, and they were both thrown far into the air. As they fell, Thor was somehow able to grab one end of Gungnir as Loki grasped the other, and Loki thought that if they were going to die, at least they would die together. 

Just before they cleared the ruined end of the bridge completely, however, they came to a sudden stop, and Loki looked up to find Odin himself holding Thor by his leg. It was appropriate, really – Odin at the top, controlling who would and wouldn’t survive for power, holding the chosen one, the golden son, and Loki left at the bottom trying desperately to hold on. 

He looked up past his brother, into the cold eyes of Odin. “I could’ve done it Father, for you! For all of us!” Loki yelled, desperate for some measure of reassurance that it hadn’t all been in vain. 

“No, Loki.” 

Just two simple words, and with them, Loki felt the last ounce of fight in him seep away. An eerie calm settled over him, and he could see the horror in Thor’s eyes as he realized what Loki was about to do. 

“Loki, no!” 

In the end, it was easy. He’d already lost everything – not only the family he’d always known, but also the potential family he’d hoped to create for himself. He looked once more at his brother, relaxed…and let go.

* * *

Sigyn couldn’t reach the Bifröst fast enough. She ran down through the corridors, pushing and shoving anyone who got in her way. Just as she reached the courtyard, she saw Odin and Thor approaching, alone. Shockingly, Thor was crying, grasping something shiny in his hands so tightly it took Sigyn a moment to figure out what it was. 

Loki’s helmet. 

Sigyn pulled in a sharp breath to cry out, but her vision blurred and darkness claimed her instead.

* * *

The days after passed for Sigyn, but not in the normal way, if there was such a thing. Her waking hours were spent in a daze. The court’s business had come to a standstill, and as such, the queen had not needed Sigyn’s services. It was just as well, as Sigyn was in no shape to be much help. Grief had consumed her; her body ached near constantly, she couldn’t keep any food down, and an overwhelming fatigue had settled into her so completely she could barely keep her eyes open for any length of time. Every night she would find herself lying in bed for hours, intermittently weeping and screaming into her pillow, desperate for sleep but afraid to close her eyes lest she dream of Loki. 

The official story from the palace was that Loki had been defending Asgard from another jotun attack, this time through the Bifröst itself. A magic spell gone wrong had caused the destruction of the Observatory, and in the ensuing explosion, neither the Allfather nor Thor - hastily recalled from his banishment - was able to save him. The only thing they had recovered was his helmet. 

Sigyn knew the truth was more than that, though no one had explicitly told her so. She was questioned at length about the days leading up to Loki’s death by Odin himself, and he seemed genuinely frustrated that she had nothing new to add to what he had already learned from others. Whatever secrets Loki had been keeping, he had kept them from her just as easily as he had everyone else, and it was that fact – the ease with which he had deceived her – which she found the most upsetting. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever been truthful to her at all. 

But in her heart she wanted to believe he’d loved her, no matter what his actions and words had been, and one week after Loki’s death, during his memorial celebration, the queen had come to her with news that seemed to confirm exactly that. 

Sigyn was sitting at the banquet table, trying to muster up the enthusiasm to participate in the revelry, when she felt the soft hand of the queen on her shoulder. 

“Walk with me, Sigyn.” 

She had followed the queen at once, desperate to get away from the merriment and carousing surrounding her. Even in a state of mourning, the Aesir were not ones to pass up an opportunity for drinking; no one cared to consider the feelings of a bereft young woman, lonely for her lost love. 

“Your Majesty, forgive me. I’ve been so preoccupied with my own sorrow I haven’t made the proper effort to offer my condolences for your loss.” 

“There is no need to apologize,” said Frigga, steering Sigyn away from the crowd and toward a bench in a quiet alcove. “You and I are mourning him in very different ways. The pain you are experiencing is no less real for you than mine is for me.” 

“I almost feel as though I don’t have the right to mourn him at all,” said Sigyn. “It isn’t as though we were married. We weren’t even promised to one another.” 

“That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you, Sigyn. I spoke to your brother, and he told me what happened between you and Loki before his death.” 

Sigyn took in a sharp breath. “Your Majesty, it all happened so fast. I hadn’t even had the chance to process everything before, before…” She motioned with her hand, indicating the memorial feast still underway around them.  

“Quite frankly, I’ve had a difficult time processing it myself. I told you once that Loki was a very passionate man, how when he was set on something that nothing would stand in his way. That applied to every aspect of his life, and in my opinion – as a mother who in some ways knew him better than he even knew himself – his mind and heart were set on _you_.” 

“I feel you speak the truth, and I want nothing more than to believe you, but it’s so hard to trust your words.” She didn’t have the heart to tell the queen just how harsh Loki had been, how emotionless he had seemed when she last spoke to him. 

“Well, I have something that I hope will set your mind at ease.” Frigga reached into a discreet pocket on the side of her dress and pulled out a small velvet pouch. “In gathering some of Loki’s belongings for tonight’s celebration, Thor found these in Loki’s desk. I think they will be of great interest to you.” 

She took Sigyn’s hand in hers, emptying the pouch into her upturned palm. Two rings spilled out, identical in every way but size. They were fashioned from bright gold, the intricately engraved image of Gungnir – a reverent symbol of the house of Odin – encircling the surface of each. One was much smaller than the other, and Sigyn gasped as she realized what they were. 

Frigga picked up the larger of the two, and held it at an angle. “Look inside.” 

 As Sigyn peered closer, she could make out a single engraved word on the inside of the band: _Sigyn._ Without touching the smaller ring, she knew what she would find engraved in it. _Loki._  

Sigyn burst into tears, nearly dropping the rings as her body was wracked with sobs. She looked at the queen, trying to divine some sort of understanding. “I don’t understand…why? Why would he dismiss me if this was his intention all along? You say you knew him better than anyone – why would he do that?” 

The queen wiped a tear from Sigyn’s cheek, her countenance sorrowful. “My darling girl, the pressure he was under was so great. Losing his brother to banishment, nearly losing his father – then to be handed the throne of Asgard? Whatever his reasons for letting you go, he must have felt he was doing what was best for you both.”

 “I’m sure you’re right,” said Sigyn, even as her mind insisted there had to be more she didn’t know. Frigga was still her queen, and Sigyn’s sense of duty wouldn’t allow her to question what she was being told. She looked at the rings in her hand. “I won’t wear them of course, but if you would allow it, may I…may I keep these?” 

Frigga closed Sigyn’s hand over the rings. “Of course. I think Loki would have wanted that.”

* * *

After her conversation with the queen, Sigyn stayed a while longer; however, she knew the celebration would continue until the wee hours of the morning and she’d had more than enough. She found Edmund to tell him she was leaving, and he insisted that he and Ingrid accompany her home. Though he hadn’t said it in so many words, Sigyn knew he was afraid to leave her alone for too long. 

She bade Edmund and Ingrid good night the instant they arrived at the apartment, excusing herself to her room. She was tired of keeping up her brave face around others; she was on the verge of another breakdown, and wanted relative privacy for when it finally hit her. 

She changed into her nightclothes, making sure to retrieve the rings from her dress before crumpling into the bed. They were so tiny, but the weight of everything they represented made them feel impossibly heavy in her hand. They had confirmed Loki’s love for her, and yet their existence posed so many more unanswerable questions; Sigyn thought she would go mad if she lingered on them for too long. 

When sleep finally claimed her, it was deep and blessedly dreamless. 

Opening her eyes the next morning, her gaze immediately settled on the box containing the things she had removed from Loki’s chambers, still sitting in the same spot it had been in all week. The pain had been too fresh for her to go through any of it before, but she could no longer put it off. She would mourn him and what they could have had for the rest of her life, but it was time to start the process of moving on. 

She put the box on her bed and began pulling things out: clothing, toiletries, books, and various other items that meant everything and nothing at once. The shawl he had conjured for her the night of the queen’s birthday celebration was near the bottom, and as she picked it up, a jar fell from inside of it. 

It contained the contraceptive herbs she had been so faithful about using. She had laughed once with Loki about them, telling him that if he was such a powerful sorcerer, he had to know of some spell he could use instead. His answer had surprised her. _Well, yes…but I’ve never used it more than three times on the same woman. I’m too fearful of permanent damage if I used it more often, Sigyn._ At the time, the thought that perhaps he’d want to have children with her one day had made her happier than she could express; now it was just another painful reminder of what had been taken from her. 

The jar was still quite full, and rather than waste the contents, Sigyn decided to see if Ingrid could use them instead. She found her in the kitchen with Edmund. 

“Is everything all right?” Edmund asked, rising from his chair. 

“It’s nothing,” said Sigyn. “I was just going through some of my things, and I found these.” She held the jar out to Ingrid. “I obviously won’t need these anymore. I thought perhaps you could use them.” 

“Oh, oh yes,” said Ingrid, taking the jar from her hand. 

She could feel the all-too familiar sting of tears once again forming in her eyes. “Forgive me,” she said, turning back to her room. “I’m just so exhausted.” She had barely closed the door behind her when she heard a soft knock. 

She opened the door to find Ingrid on the other side, holding the jar of herbs. Her hand was trembling violently as she held them out. “These herbs…they’re not what you think they are.” 

Sigyn looked at her, confused. “What are you talking about?” 

“I wanted to tell you, I even started to last week in the palace kitchens before everything happened, and then there wasn’t an appropriate time, and oh, your mother is just so intimidating-“ 

 “My mother? What? You’re not making any sense.” 

Ingrid took a deep breath, blowing it out forcefully before speaking again. “She asked me to switch them out. Sigyn, _these_ herbs are useless.” 

Sigyn’s hand flew to the doorframe to help keep her upright, all of the blood rushing from her face. “What are you saying?” 

“I’m _so_ sorry, sorrier than you would ever believe, but Sigyn – I think you might be pregnant.”


	22. Chapter 22

Dying was nothing like Loki had ever imagined.

He anticipated his body to be ripped apart the moment he crossed the threshold into the void – a flash of intense pain before he ceased to exist.

What he didn’t expect were the colors and lights for which even he had no words. Heat and cold the likes of which he had never experienced.  The euphoria bordering on madness, followed by such a complete emptiness he was certain his skin would split apart like paper, exposing him as nothing but a hollow shell.

Every decision, every choice, every path he had taken in his life replayed in his head in an endless loop, and though some were unbearable, he tried to focus on the memories that made him happiest.

The first book of magic his mother had given him.

Fighting alongside his brother, their victory assured.

But above all, memories of Sigyn.

The softness of her hair between his fingers. The spot behind her ear that would make her laugh without fail when he kissed it. The comfort of her body next to his during the night.

All of it, gone. It was his only regret – not having met her sooner.

She was at the forefront of his mind when he finally became aware he was no longer falling. That he was not dead at all, but rather found by someone – some _thing_ – in the void.

Only then did he finally feel pain, and wished then that death had come for him instead.

* * *

Sigyn’s first instinct was to lunge at Ingrid for such a terrible attempt at humor.

“Pregnant? If that’s a joke, it’s in very poor taste.”  

“I wish I was joking. More than anything.”

Sigyn backed away slowly.Her legs were heavy, and when she hit the edge of her bed and she sat down hard. She barely recognized her own voice as she spoke. “You say my mother told you to do it. What did you mean by that?”

Ingrid stayed in the doorway, as if distance between them would make what she had to say any easier. “She thought your relationship with Prince Loki wasn’t progressing quickly enough. She knew I was an herbalist’s apprentice once, and she said perhaps he could use some…incentive.” The last word was barely a whisper.

“ _Incentive?!_ ”

Visibly blanching at Sigyn’s outburst, Ingrid raised her hands before her as if warding off a blow. “Forgive me! She insinuated that she would make things very difficult for me with Edmund if I didn’t help.”

The raised voices and the mention of his name attracted Edmund’s attention, and he appeared over Ingrid’s shoulder. “What’s going on in here?”

Ingrid opened her mouth to speak, but Sigyn rose from the bed and spoke first. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. Apparently, our mother decided to use my womb as a bargaining chip, and enlisted the help of your fiancée here to do it.” 

Edmund’s head snapped toward Ingrid. “What is she talking about?”

Sigyn was only half listening as Ingrid described her tale to Edmund: the request that Ingrid procure similar but useless herbs to replace Sigyn’s supply; Dagmar’s promise that she would encourage Edmund’s affections in return for her help; Ingrid waiting for Sigyn to spend the night at home once and then slipping into her room and switching the contents of the jar when she was otherwise occupied.

One of Sigyn’s hands instinctively slipped to rub her belly. “How long ago? How long have I been vulnerable?”

“Two months.”

Sigyn thought back. She could count the number of times she and Loki had been intimate in that period on both hands and still have fingers remaining; and yet she couldn’t deny what was becoming all too clear. Even without verification from a healer, the truth was obvious: the nausea, the fatigue, the aches, all chalked up to stress and grief, when in reality she had been carrying Loki’s child _. Had I known, would things have turned out differently? Would he still be here? Would he be disappointed? Angry? Overjoyed?_ She pushed the thoughts away, painfully aware of how swiftly madness would consume her if she continued down that path.

She was too numb for tears, a fact for which she was immensely grateful. She was worn out from crying, weary to her bones of sorrow and sadness. What replaced it surprised her; an all-consuming anger, not only at her mother and Ingrid, but predominantly at Loki. For insisting she continue to use the herbs, for being so damned _impossible_ to resist – and most illogically, for leaving her alone to face this new reality without him. 

She grabbed a dress from her wardrobe, pushing past a sobbing Ingrid and increasingly agitated Edmund to make her way to the washroom.

“Wait - where are you going?” asked Edmund.

“I can’t stay here another second. I’m going to talk to Mother myself.”

* * *

Dagmar’s house wasn’t terribly far from Edmund and Sigyn’s apartment, but the walk there had never seemed so long. Suddenly Sigyn was acutely aware of something she had never paid much attention to before; there were children _everywhere_. Small children tugging at their mother’s skirts, happy groups of older children running past her to play, even adolescent boys overcome with hormones and whistling at her as she walked past. If she were any younger, it might have been flattering; now it was just upsetting.

Her nerves were completely frayed by the time she reached her mother’s front door. She half expected Dagmar to be out; it would have been typical of her to be unavailable when she was needed, even if she had a habit of insinuating herself into situations in which she _didn’t_ belong with alarming consistency.

Astonishingly, she was home after all – and as she opened the door her face went slack with nervousness at the obvious anger on Sigyn’s features.

“Sigyn! Well, this is a surpri-“

Sigyn cut her off, pulling the jar of herbs out of her dress and shoving them toward her mother. “What are these?”

To her credit, Dagmar remained composed, even if her eyes did go wide for a split second. “Oh darling, grief has obviously consumed you. Why don’t you come in for a moment - I’ll make us some tea and-”

“I said – _what are these_?” The words were barely more than a hiss.

“Well, I would hope you know what those are.”

“I thought I did – but Ingrid had a very interesting story to tell me about them. She said _these_ herbs are useless, that _you_ forced her to switch them.”

“What? _Me?_ Look at me – I couldn’t force water on a man dying of thirst.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit mother – what does it say about your reputation that I wouldn’t hesitate to believe Ingrid over you - especially about something like this? But, why? Why would you do this?”

Dagmar stared at Sigyn for a beat, judging whether she should continue her ruse before tilting her head – the gesture was infuriatingly mocking, and it took all of Sigyn’s self-control not to slap her. “He was the best opportunity you would ever have. And you were letting him slip through your fingers.”

Sigyn snorted a laugh through her nose, short and bitter. “That’s where you’re wrong, mother. He was going to marry me – without any intervention on your part.”

“You know this for sure? What proof do you have?”

“Proof hardly matters now that he’s dead, does it?”

“And I am eternally sorry for that, but how could I have ever known this would happen? I was doing what was best for you, surely you can see that! Besides, if he intended marriage, you would think someone of his station would have come to me for permission first; perhaps then all of this could have been avoided. Darling, please understand – I never meant to hurt you.” She reached to stroke Sigyn’s face, recoiling when Sigyn slapped her hand away.

“You’re delusional. And now, because of your actions, I get to go the queen and inform her that I’m carrying her dead son’s child. I’ll be lucky if I’m not banished.”

“So…you _are_ pregnant?”

Before she could stop herself, Sigyn threw the jar, and it barely missed her mother’s head before shattering on the door frame behind her.

“Do not concern yourself with me anymore. If I _am_ pregnant, I can assure you – you will be as dead to this child as its father.” She spun on her feet, nearly breaking out in a run in an effort to get away, ignoring her mother’s desperate pleas to return.

* * *

She didn’t go home; instead, she headed directly to the palace. As much as the thought pained her, Sigyn knew she couldn’t delay informing the queen.

She hoped to find the queen alone in her chambers, but when she arrived she found Thor visiting with her, just as Loki had so many times before. He rose from his chair the moment she walked in, closing the distance between them and embracing her warmly. “Sigyn, I am sorry I did not have the chance to talk to you last night.” He pulled back from her limp form, worry in his eyes. “Are you well?”

She bit her lip. “I regret to say, I am not. I actually bear grave news.”

“It seems this week has been nothing _but_ grave news,” said Thor. “Please, sit,” he said, offering her his seat.

“Thank you, but I’d rather stand.” She wanted to be able to bolt quickly if the queen reacted badly.

“What is it, dear?” asked Frigga. “What has you so upset?”

Sigyn lowered her gaze to the floor; she didn’t want to see the disappointment in her queen’s eyes at what she had to tell her. “It seems – through nefarious means as well as our own carelessness – I might be with child.”

Frigga stood up so quickly her chair toppled over behind her, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Thor spoke before she could. “Is this true? You carry Loki’s child?”

Sigyn stared at the floor. “I’ve not been to a healer to confirm it, but I know it to be true.”

She sensed the queen approaching her, and Sigyn shrunk into herself, expecting Frigga to lash out in some way – but she was instead stunned when the queen gathered her into her arms.

“This is by far the best news I’ve heard in an age.”

In her relief, all of the tension Sigyn had been holding in burst forth, and she started to weep into the queen’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty.”

“You said there were nefarious means at work here. What did you mean by that?”

“Your Majesty, please understand, we were being careful and taking precautions. But my mother – she had other ideas. She tampered with my contraception. Please believe me; I am _horrified_ by her actions –“

”What’s done is done, child,” said Frigga. “Whatever the outcome, we will face it together.”

* * *

Frigga accompanied Sigyn to the healing annex of the palace, asking Thor to summon his father before they left. The queen allowed her some privacy with the healer, waiting in the hall while she looked Sigyn over. A simple blood test and physical examination were completed, and the healer confirmed what Sigyn could no longer deny.

“Everything seems to be progressing nicely. With your symptoms and the information you’ve given me, my best estimation is that you’re nearly six weeks along.”

She continued on with instructions: recommended herbs to take (Sigyn made a mental note to make sure and keep them under lock and key), foods to avoid, physical activity to keep her strong. Sigyn could only nod, hoping the healer would write it all down. She was sure she wouldn’t remember anything; the very thought of being pregnant at all was still so unreal.

Her lecture finished, the healer stepped out to speak to the queen, leaving Sigyn to lie in the bed with only her thoughts for company.

She and Loki had never seriously discussed having children together. In truth – though she had at times allowed herself to imagine what their children might look like or how they would behave – she had also wondered if Loki would even be a decent parent. In so many ways, he had been enormously selfish, jealous, and possessive – traits Sigyn didn’t think would necessarily translate well into fatherhood. _Not that it matters anymore. Though, it would have been nice for him to prove me wrong._

Raised voices in the hallway shook her out of her reverie. One she recognized immediately as Frigga, but the other took her a moment: the Allfather himself.

“Does she know what she carries?”

“Our grandchild. A piece of your son remains behind – does anything else matter?”

“Are you truly that desperate that you would put this innocent girl’s life in danger?”

Sigyn sat forward, straining to hear better. The healer had told her everything was progressing well – what risk did her pregnancy pose?

“We don’t know that her life is in danger, Odin. Children from unions such as these are not without precedent-“

“In legend, Frigga. Tell me – when was the last time a half-jotun child was born in Asgard?”

_Half-jotun? No, no, no – that makes no sense at all. He is mistaken._

“Odin, please. She’s only just learned about her condition today. Must we add this burden to her so soon?”

“The longer we wait the fewer options we will have.”

Before the queen could answer, the door opened and Odin stepped in, Frigga following closely behind.

He radiated age and wisdom, a combination that had never failed to intimidate Sigyn in her limited dealings with him. But this day something was different in his features; there was a level of concern that – rather than put her at ease – made Sigyn nervous. The Allfather was obviously worried, and that only intensified the severity of the situation.

“Allfather,” she said, lowering her head in respect.

He stopped beside the bed, lifting her chin to look her directly in the eye. “Sigyn, there is no easy way to say this, but circumstances as they are require I be blunt. Loki was our son in every way that mattered…though not by blood. He was born on Jotunheim. I found him there as an infant, abandoned and dying, and I brought him here to raise as my own.”

Sigyn sank back into the pillow. “A Frost Giant?” She couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s not possible! He was smaller than Thor. His skin was no different than yours. He was _warm_ for pity’s sake!” She shook her head. “I don’t believe you. Why would you say such a thing?”

“He was abnormally small for a jotun. It was likely the reason he was left to die in the first place. As for his appearance…it was a deception he created himself, even as an infant. After so long, he was no longer even conscious of it.”

Sigyn could only stare at him, anger welling up inside of her. “I understand now. This is all about you. You would rather convince me Loki was a monster than have a bastard baby in the family.” She looked past Odin to Frigga. “What he’s saying is impossible, right?”

“He speaks the truth, child.” Her eyes were sad, but she didn’t look away.

“So my child is half _jotun_?” asked Sigyn, her hand reflexively splayed across her belly, the press of the heavy news nearly tangible on her chest.

“Yes,” said Odin. “And as such – for your safety – I would highly advise you terminate the pregnancy.”

“Why? Because then you wouldn’t need to hide a half-breed child in Asgard?”

“Because it would be easier for all of us, you included.”

She gritted her teeth. “Are you ordering me to do that?”

“No-“

“Then I’ll take it under advisement. But if it’s all the same to you, I’m more than a little weary of others making these decisions for me.” She turned away from him, all too aware she was being disrespectful but unable to care. It was all too much to absorb; she just wanted everyone to leave her in peace.

Odin sighed. “Just be aware, the longer you wait-“

“I understand. I hardly think giving me a few days to think it over will make a difference.”

She felt him turn from her and walk back toward the door. He spoke to the queen as he passed her. “This is difficult for me as well, Frigga. I loved him, too.”

The queen remained behind, pulling up a chair next to the bed as soon as Odin was gone. Sigyn turned to her. “Did Loki know? Did he know you weren’t truly his parents?”

Frigga took Sigyn’s hand in hers. “We kept the truth from him, at first to protect him, but then because…well, because we thought it no longer mattered. He was our son regardless of his true nature.”

“But he learned the truth, didn’t he? Something happened when he went to Jotunheim with Thor, and your deception was revealed.”

“Yes.”

“That’s why he pushed me away. He didn’t want me to know.” It was more of an observation than a question, and the queen remained silent. “Why would you allow our relationship, if you knew the truth?”

“I never meant to hurt you-“

“That’s funny…you aren’t the first person to say that to me today. I didn’t _mean_ to get pregnant, Loki didn’t _mean_ to die, and no one _meant_ to hurt me. That makes it all better, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it doesn’t. Sigyn, Loki had never been happier than he was with you. As his mother, I allowed my desire for that happiness to cloud my judgment. I knew the truth would come out eventually, but I had no doubt the love you shared was great enough to handle it.”

“It’s a shame he didn’t think it was,” said Sigyn, running her hands down her face. “What would _you_ have me do?”

Frigga lowered her eyes, collecting herself before raising her head once more. “Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I would see my son’s child born. Come live here in the palace; you will have the finest care available to you in case of…complications.”

“And the Allfather? He seemed quite adamant I not have this child.”

“He only worries for your safety, Sigyn.”

“And you don’t?”

“Of course I do. But where he sees only problems, I see a blessing. I also think you are much stronger than he fears.”

“Strong enough physically perhaps, but what of the emotional cost? Out-of-wedlock mothers aren’t exactly revered in our society.”

“I have a solution for that. The ring I gave you – I want you to wear it. If anyone asks, you and Loki were secretly married before his death.”

“So, you want me to lie now as well?”

“I wouldn’t ask it of you if I didn’t feel it necessary. In reality, a widowed mother receives better treatment. I’m only thinking about what’s best for you and the child in the long run.”

“If I decide to keep it. I gave Allfather my word I would think on it.”

“And I would expect no less, Sigyn. But don’t let his words or mine alone sway you. Whatever your final decision, I would still like for you to stay here in the meantime. I’ll have a room arranged for you, and Thor can accompany you to gather your things from your apartment. I have no doubt he would want his opinion known as well.”

* * *

Sigyn could already sense Thor’s protective nature was going to be problematic.

“Are you sure you’re alright to walk, Sigyn? I could arrange a carriage, you know-“

“I’m fine, honestly. I don’t have a lot to carry, and walking will help me clear my head. I’m not as fragile as you think.”

He sighed, unhappy with her choice, but unwilling to push her. They walked for a while in companionable silence before he spoke again. “You know, I never thought Loki – of all people – would become a father before me.”

“I think he would be just as surprised as you are, Thor…were he here.”

“Surprised, yes. But he would have been thrilled more than anything.”

“You think so?”

“Sigyn, my brother had a well-deserved reputation for trickery, but know this – his feelings for you were genuine. He practically glowed when you were around – but if he could see you carrying his child? By the Nine, he would have been intolerable.”

“He _was_ always quite proud of his accomplishments,” she said with a laugh. It was the first time she’d truly smiled all day, and it felt good, but it didn’t last long. “Thor, about Loki’s parentage-“

“It doesn’t matter to me,” he cut in. “Loki was my brother. He will always be my brother.”

“Your father thinks this baby – being half jotun – risks my health, but your mother insists I will be fine. What about you?”

Thor stopped mid stride and turned to Sigyn. “I think you should do whatever _you_ feel is best. If you decide to keep the child, I swear to you it will be welcomed into the family with open arms. But promise me this – that you will monitor your health closely, and if it becomes too much of a risk, that you will do whatever necessary to keep yourself well. Loki’s death was terrible enough; let’s not add to the tragedy with yours.”

“Thank you. That is the most reasonable thing anyone has said to me today. No one gives you enough credit for your wisdom, you know.”

“That wisdom has come at a high price, Sigyn, especially over the last week. I only hope I can continue to exceed expectations.”

The door to her apartment was barely open before Edmund appeared in the doorway. “Sister! Where have you-“ He stopped mid-sentence, taking in her companion. “Your Highness, this is unexpected.”

“Edmund, I’m sure you’re aware of your sister’s condition. We’re only here to gather some of her things; she will be staying at the palace for the foreseeable future.”

“Of course.” Edmund leaned in closely to Sigyn. “You should know, Mother is here-“

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Dagmar appeared at the end of the hallway. “Sigyn! Oh darling, you had me worried sick.” She didn’t try to approach her, choosing to stay where she was and wring her hands instead.

Sigyn turned to Thor. “Please, let’s make this quick. I don’t have anything to say to her right now.”

“I understand.” He approached Dagmar, a gentle smile on his face. “Lady Sigmundsdottir, I’m sure you can appreciate how exhausted Sigyn must feel right now. We’ll be on our way the moment she gathers her things. In the future, any visitation with her can be arranged through the palace. If Sigyn agrees, of course.”

Dagmar reached out to Sigyn as she tried to slip past, but Thor stopped her, his smile gone. “Please don’t.”

Sigyn could hear the incredulous tone in her mother’s voice even from her room. “You can’t keep me from my child-“

“She is a grown woman. Whatever choices she makes are hers alone; I am here to ensure those choices are given no resistance.”

Sigyn heard nothing more as she hastily threw her things back into the box she had been unpacking only hours earlier. It still amazed her just how much had changed since she woke up that morning.

She grabbed a few more items, making sure to grab the pouch with the rings from her bedside table, slipping them into the pocket of her dress before heading back into the hallway.

Thor stepped away from Dagmar and took the box from her. “This doesn’t seem like much. Are you sure you have everything you need?”

“Edmund can bring me anything I’ve forgotten. I just want to leave.”

Her mother tried to speak to her once more before she left, but this time Edmund stopped her. “Mother, leave her alone. Haven’t you done enough?”

Sigyn grabbed his arm and pulled him down the hall with her as she made her way to the front door. “Where is Ingrid?”

“At the palace, at work. Sigyn, she is _so_ sorry-“

“I know. If you see her before I do, please tell her I forgive her. She didn’t want to lose you – and which of us can say we haven’t done foolish things for love?” She forced a broad smile. “Besides, now you have the entire apartment to yourself. No more worrying about sharing your home with your sister after you get married.”

He grinned back at her, but the mirth didn’t quite reach his eyes. “This isn’t how I wanted you to go.”

“Me neither, dear brother. Me neither.”

* * *

Her new chambers had been prepared for her by the time they returned to the palace. They were located one floor down from the royal apartments, ostensibly because it was nearer to the healing annex – though Sigyn suspected the real reason was so Frigga could remain as close as possible.    

The rooms were opulently furnished, and though they were smaller, they were in many ways similar to Loki’s chambers. There was an attached washroom, fireplace, sitting area, and a small balcony overlooking the gardens. As she stepped into the main room, Sigyn was unsurprised to see it also had an additional, smaller room attached. Though currently empty, it was the perfect size for a nursery; Frigga was clearly preparing ahead. Sigyn was sure the queen had likely already ordered furniture and linens to fill it up.

Thor set her box of belongings on the bed. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Just some time alone. I have a lot to think over.”

“I’ll send food from the kitchens. I won’t have you starving yourself.”

“I appreciate that. I’d go myself, but I’m not in the mood for company.”

He pulled her in once more for a warm hug, and Sigyn was amazed by how gentle he could be for someone so enormous. “I’m here if you need anything. Anything at all.”

 _Right now, I only want Loki,_ she thought. _The one thing you can’t give me._

Thor shut the door behind him as he left, and to Sigyn, it sounded like a prison gate closing.

Positive she had never been more worn out in her life, she fell onto the bed, pulling the ring pouch from her dress as soon as her head hit the pillows.

She spilled the rings out into her palm and thought back to the different conversations she’d had over the course of the day – the different opinions everyone had expressed about what she should do.

The truth was – though she wouldn’t have chosen to become a mother yet under different circumstances, and certainly not _alone_ – she wanted to keep the baby. She had to know – would it be a boy or a girl? Would it have her eyes? Loki’s nose, his hands, or – _heavens forbid_ – his demanding personality? She had promised to think it over, and to make her own health a priority, but her mind was made up. It wouldn’t be easy, but through their child, Loki would live on.

She picked up the smaller ring and took a deep breath before sliding it onto her finger. Immediately, she could feel a warmth emanating from it, and what felt like coils of energy flowing through the band and into her finger. Her first instinct was to remove it, thinking something was wrong, but as hard as she tried it wouldn’t budge. She was confused; it fit her perfectly – there was no reason she shouldn’t have been able to slip it off easily. She struggled for a moment more before grasping the truth. _Loki enchanted it. Only he would be able to remove it._

She stared at her finger, the etched image of Gungnir glittering in the light, and the enormity of everything finally sank in. It didn’t matter what Thor said about her choices being hers alone; until her baby was born, she was now no more than palace property. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the reviews, kudos, and follows - they all mean so much to me!


	23. Chapter 23

Sigyn pulled her legs in as tightly as she could onto the bench in the alcove, soaking in the sun from the window and trying in vain to comfortably balance the book she was reading on her swollen belly. Just short of six months into her pregnancy, she was beginning to understand that _any_ kind of comfort was going to elude her, at least until she had her body back to herself.

As soon as she was still, the baby decided to stretch out, painfully digging its feet into her ribs. She put the book aside and stood up, standing as tall as possible until it shifted once again. “You must have your father’s legs, little one.”

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the corridor and stared across to the doors of Loki’s chambers; they had been sealed by Odin after Loki’s death, as custom required. Four months later, Sigyn’s heartache and longing for Loki hadn’t eased in the slightest, and her compulsion to study within sight of his rooms was likely doing nothing to help.

Hearing footsteps, she sunk back into the alcove, rearranging herself in the window and hoping she hadn’t been seen. No one ever came down that particular corridor anymore; hiding there gave her a welcome reprieve from the pitying looks everyone loved to bestow upon her.

“My mother thought I might find you here.”

She looked up from her book to find Thor standing in the corridor. “I like it here. It’s quiet.”

“You come here,” he said, glancing at Loki’s chamber doors, “…because it’s _quiet_?”   

She smiled at him, ignoring his question and scooting aside so he could join her on the bench. “You know, I think you’re worse than Edmund. You and I see each other nearly every day, and you always look worried about me – even more so lately. Are you still concerned about my health? The healer says everything is progressing nicely. I’m in no danger as far as she can tell.”

“I know. I already spoke to her myself, just to be sure. You’re obviously expecting now, and it all seems so much more…” – he paused, searching for the right word – “… _real_.”

She had to laugh at that. “Well, if my level of discomfort is any indication, this baby is quite real, and becoming more real by the day. Is that why you’re here, to confirm for yourself what the healer told you?”

“I’ve actually brought you something. I found this in my room this morning,” he said, holding a leather-bound tome out to her, sheepishly wiping away a film of dust from its surface as he settled in next to her. “I vaguely remember my mother giving it to me years ago to study, but books never held my interest the way they did Loki’s.”

Sigyn took it from him, a small smile spreading over her face as she read the title. “Oh, it’s about Alfheim! That was the next realm on my list to study.”

“So I hear.”

“Wait…did you talk to my tutor as well?”

This time it was Thor’s turn to laugh. “Perhaps.”

Immediately after confirming Sigyn's pregnancy, Frigga had relieved Sigyn of her handmaiden’s duties, informing her that her only job from that day forward was to stay well and produce a healthy baby. Sigyn had spent the following two weeks nearly crippled with boredom, until she had finally asked Thor for help. With his encouragement, she had convinced the queen to allow her to study the nine realms with an eye to becoming a diplomat one day, just as she’d always desired.

The citizens of Asgard could give her all the sympathetic looks they wanted – she wasn’t going to sit around waiting for any of them to actually help her. She was determined to prove to everyone that she was entirely capable of raising a child on her own if she had to.

Thor took a deep breath, pulling an envelope from his pocket and holding it out to her. “This also came for you today.”

She recognized her mother’s handwriting, and set the envelope aside without opening it.

“Do you not wish to know what it says?”

“I don’t need to open it to know what it says. The same as every other letter she’s sent. _I love you. I miss you. Forgive me. I just need to know if you are well_.”

Thor merely raised an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t look at me that way. I always write her back, you know. _I am well. The baby grows and I along with it. I love you, but forgiveness will take time_.”

“And how long do you intend to punish her for her actions?”

She punched him in the shoulder, her fist bouncing off of him like a leaf off a stone. “I don’t need a lecture from you.”

“Sigyn, it does no one any good to allow offenses to fester. I learned that lesson the hard way – I would hate for you to do the same.”

She turned away from him, unable to stand the sorrow in his face. “So, they have the crown prince delivering letters now?” she asked, attempting to change the subject. “Or is there more to this visit?”

“There _is_ something I wish to discuss with you.”

Something in his voice caught her attention, and she looked back, surprised at what she saw. He looked tense – whatever it was he wanted to discuss must have been unpleasant. “What is it?” she asked.

He tapped his fist nervously on his leg. “Sigyn, I’m not sure how to say this-“

“Just say it. It’s can’t be that bad, can it?” He just looked at her, his silence unnerving. “Is it about the baby?” she asked, wrapping her arms around herself defensively.

“In a way, yes.”

Her heart rose to her throat at the anxiety in his eyes, and she was suddenly certain of what he was going to say. “It’s exactly what I’ve feared, isn’t it? Your father – he means to take it from me after it’s born,” she said. “Please…please don’t let him-“

“No! No, of course not,” said Thor, shaking his head. “No one is taking your child from you, I swear it.”

Sigyn heaved a sigh of relief. In response to her agitation, the baby had started to move once again; she grimaced at a particularly hard kick.

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

“No, it’s just, well…” she started. Without thinking, she grabbed Thor’s hand and placed it on her belly.

The baby shifted again, and Thor’s eyes went wide. “Incredible,” he said, his normally booming voice soft. “Loki should be here for this.” He shook his head. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s all right. I agree…he _should_ be here for this.” They stayed that way for a moment, until the baby’s movements slowed and finally stopped altogether. “I’m sorry if that was too forward, I just wanted to share it with someone,” she said as Thor pulled his hand away. “Now, what was it you wanted to discuss?”

“Sigyn, I know you and Loki weren’t _truly_ married before he died.”

“No, but your mother was right. Passing myself off as his widow has saved me so much trouble. I can’t imagine the looks I would get if everyone knew I was carrying a bastard child.”

“Don’t say that. This child isn’t a bastard. You _must_ know, had Loki lived he would have married you, pregnant or not.”

“What choice have I but to believe that?” She rubbed the ring on her hand anxiously. She had long since grown accustomed to the energy flowing from it and keeping it on her finger; it had become a comfort to her, helping to stave off the loneliness that threatened to creep in during the long nights spent in solitude.

“As a widow, you have your necessary mourning period. But once that is over, you will be free to – for lack of a better word – remarry.”

“Yes, but by that time this baby will be several months old. Not many suitors are lining up to court a woman with a small infant. And a half-jotun infant? I daresay my chances of finding someone in Asgard willing to marry me will be nonexistent.”

“But someone with more intimate knowledge of the situation might be willing to overlook circumstances.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You sound as though you have someone in mind-“

“I do. I’m asking if you would consider marrying… _me_.”

All the blood drained from her face. “What? _No_ , absolutely not.” She stood quickly, knocking the books from the bench in her haste.

“Just listen to what I have to say-“

“No! I can’t do that! Thor, I don’t, I-I couldn’t…” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought, pacing back and forth in the corridor. She caught her breath and swung to face him. “Thor, I don’t love you that way. I could never… _lay_ with you.”

“And I wouldn’t ask it of you, Sigyn. You are like a sister to me. Please understand, I only want to do right by my brother, to care for you and your child the way he would were he here. Nothing more than that.”

“Your father, he would never agree to it. He may allow me to keep the child, but he would see me banished before he would allow us to marry.”

“Once I am king, he would not be able to stop me,” said Thor, rising from the bench and joining her in the corridor.

“Of course,” said Sigyn, looking up into his eyes. “And as king, you would require an heir. Am I to believe you would allow this child to be heir to the throne of Asgard? The half-jotun child of the man you were raised to believe was your brother? That would never happen – even if it’s what you wanted, Asgard would rebel at the mere thought.”

He just stared at her, silent and immovable.

“One day you will want a child of your own. From Sif, from _me_ – it doesn’t matter. A true _Aesir_ heir. And this child would be pushed aside in favor of that child, and made to feel inferior in every way. And we all know how well that worked out the last time that happened.”

Thor sighed in frustration. “I’m not saying there wouldn’t be problems to overcome, Sigyn. I’m not even asking for an answer today. I only want you to consider it. You can make a final decision once your mourning period is over. _Please_ , think about it.”

Sigyn went back into the alcove and hastily gathered her book from the bench and floor. “I promise to think about it, but don’t expect the answer to be what you want.” She hurried off down the hall toward her chambers, the one place left in Asgard she knew she could truly be alone.

* * *

“Are you quite finished struggling? Your attempts to remove your bonds are laughable.”

Loki stilled against the rock he was shackled to, his senses on high alert. His arms were stretch out to the sides, chained at a height that allowed neither standing nor lying down. His captors had stripped him of all his clothing, removing even his dignity in an attempt to break him, and his knees dug painfully into the ground.

Weak and ravenous when they found him, he hadn’t the strength to fight them off physically; using any kind of sorcery had been impossible. What little food and water he had been given was revolting, and barely enough to keep him alive, much less gain any kind of advantage on them. He’d had the presence of mind, however, to stay silent about who he was and where he was from.  

None of the creatures he’d had the misfortune of interacting with had sounded friendly, but this new voice had a hard edge that had been missing from all the others. It demanded caution, but Loki wasn’t going to be defeated without using the last weapons he had left to him – his mind and his words. 

“Ah, the big wolf, come to take care of his master’s problem once and for all. Has he finally run out of patience with me?” he asked, too weak to even raise his head and look his new visitor in the eye.

“Defiant until the end. Your strength would be admirable, were it not so misguided.”

“Let no one say I went to my death without a fight.”

“Death?” said the voice, alarmingly close. “Now that would be too easy. No, my _master_ has yet to exhaust his ways of making you talk.”

From the corner of his eye, Loki saw a hand snake out of the darkness – a hand with too many fingers – and grab him by his chin, forcing his head up. The face that greeted him was hideous; though partially covered, what remained visible was nothing but gray skin and sharp teeth. Loki had to fight to keep his disgust hidden.

“The clothing we removed from you – garments like those are not wasted on someone unimportant. You are more powerful than you let on – let’s find out _how_ powerful, shall we?”

A searing pain shot through Loki’s head where the creature’s hand touched him, and he could physically _feel_ him inside his innermost thoughts. Every memory he had was laid bare for the taking and using, and he was helpless to oppose it.

The creature chuckled darkly. “Such anger and hatred in you – especially for the man with a single eye. Your father I see – king of your realm. And you a prince…oh, but only the _second_ prince. The one in the red cape. Your brother? Anger for him as well.”

Loki remained silent, every muscle in his body tensed.

“But surely there are those you care for, those whose safety would be very _motivating_ for you.”

He grabbed Loki’s face tighter, and Loki struggled to keep from crying out.

“This one, your mother perhaps? But wait…now who is _this_? Ah yes, these thoughts are _much_ more pleasant,” he said, rolling his tongue obscenely across his lower lip.

With the last of his energy, Loki tried to wrench his head away, but the creature’s grip was too strong. “Please…please, I’ll do whatever you want. She is innocent.”  

At last, the hand on his face pulled away, and Loki slumped forward against his bonds.

“There is a relic of great importance on a distant planet. Help us retrieve it, and you may yet live to see her again.”

The creature started to walk away, turning back after a few steps. “But if you fail us – _she_ will suffer first.”

* * *

Sigyn shifted in her bed, unable to fall asleep. Her conversation with Thor had left her unsettled, and she had come back to her rooms hoping to rest for a bit. It seemed as though the baby always chose the most inopportune times to be the most active, however – usually when Sigyn was trying to lie still – and that afternoon was no exception.

Her stomach growled as she sat up, and she decided that if she couldn’t indulge in a nap, then she would instead treat herself to something from the kitchens. Ingrid was always more than happy to give her whatever she wanted when she visited. Though she held no lasting resentment toward Ingrid, Sigyn knew it was Ingrid’s way of ensuring she stayed in her good graces.

Just as she reached the stairwell, she heard rapid footsteps descending from the royal apartments above. She barely had time to move to the side before Sif appeared. The warrior stopped the moment she saw Sigyn, her eyes wet with tears – and ablaze with anger.

“Well, if it isn’t Loki’s widow. That serpent is _dead_ , and still he causes nothing but grief.”

“You’ve spoken to Thor I take it.”

”Yes,” she said, genuine hurt in her eyes. Beneath her tough exterior, Sigyn knew Sif truly loved Thor, as much as she herself had loved – _still_ loved – Loki.

“Then he must have told you I didn’t accept his proposal.”

“He said you hadn’t accepted _yet_. That you were, however, considering it.” She inched closer, her presence imposing. “Do not mistake my sympathy for your situation for weakness, Sigyn. I don’t like to lose.”

“Had I known I was competing, I certainly would have chosen a less formidable opponent.”

“Don’t you see? It isn’t you I’m fighting against, Sigyn. It’s _Loki_. Dead or not, Thor’s greatest weakness will always be his little brother.” Before Sigyn could reply, Sif turned and continued down the stairs.

Sigyn had spent countless hours with Sif over the past months, getting to know her better along with Thor, and it pained her to think she had – through no fault of her own – alienated one of the few people left in Asgard who didn’t pity her.

Even as the thought crossed her mind, an idea came to her. There was one person she could reach out to – someone who loved her and would be thrilled to have her company once again.

She went back to her chambers, grabbed some parchment and wrote out a quick note. If she hurried, it could still be delivered by the end of the day.

_Mother,_

_Come to the palace tomorrow, midday. I love you. I miss you. I need you._

_\- Sigyn_


	24. Chapter 24

Sigyn’s eyes popped open; one glance toward the window in her chambers and she could see it was still dark outside. There was no noise, no light, nothing to disturb her – if she didn’t count the fact that now, at the end of her pregnancy, she sensed her girth surpassed even Volstagg’s. Then she felt it once more, the tightening of her belly that had awoken her, the unmistakable dull ache that signaled the beginning of the end.

She’d had false contractions in recent weeks, her body preparing itself as a dancer would practice for a performance – but those had been intermittent and merely uncomfortable. These were different. The pain was sharper, and as she timed them in her head, she found them to be occurring at regular intervals. The wait between was still fairly lengthy, so she thought she would try and get a bit more rest before the hard work began.

Yet sleep eluded her, even after rearranging herself and her pillows multiple times, and she finally admitted defeat and rose from the bed. Pulling on her robe – cursing the fact that it didn’t quite close in the front anymore – she waddled gingerly across the room, careful to hold on to the furniture as she went to prevent a fall.

When the healer had last examined her, she told Sigyn to prepare for the baby’s imminent arrival; as such, Sigyn had requested that her mother be allowed to temporarily move into the room adjoining hers. Dagmar had taken no convincing at all, arriving that very afternoon with enough personal belongings to see her through the first six months of the baby’s life. Though their relationship was better than it had been in years, there was no way Sigyn was going to allow her mother to be underfoot for that long; she would, however, put _that_ conversation off until another time.

There was a door connecting their two rooms which Dagmar insisted stay open at all times, particularly at night. Sigyn made her way to it, peeking in to find her mother sleeping peacefully. There was no need to wake her just yet; at least one of them deserved to be well rested for the events to come.

Turning back, she walked carefully to the balcony door, opening it as quietly as she could and stepping out into the cool night air. Off to her left, she could see the Bifröst, the skeletal beginnings of what would eventually be the new Observatory jutting out where the bridge met the void. Occasionally, she would sit on the balcony and look at it, thinking about Loki until she could no longer stand the sight of it and everything it represented. This night however, was not a night to be morose.

“Hello, love,” she said to the stars, hoping that wherever Loki’s spirit had gone it was looking down on her. “I think I’m going to meet our child today. Watch over us if you can.” Her belly constricted once again, even more intensely this time, and she had to lean onto the railing for support. “I wish you were here. I’m so scared.”

The pain eased away, giving her a moment to rest and breathe deeply, before another contraction began. The time between was noticeably shorter; she decided that she’d better send her mother for the healer.

She moved as swiftly as possible back to Dagmar’s rooms, gently shaking her awake.

“Mother. Mother, it’s time.”

* * *

_Sigyn follows the directions to the letter, and finds the Queen’s chambers easily. It’s her first day as Queen Frigga’s handmaiden, and she’s not sure what to expect. Her hands shake as she knocks on the door, and when there’s no answer, she waits as she was instructed to do. Having never been in this part of the palace before, she takes the time to look around and get her bearings, thankful for the chance to settle her nerves._

_Tapestries on the walls depict battles she has only ever read about, the glorious warriors of Asgard against the other realms. Battles from long before she was ever born - and yet, she can clearly make out the figure of the Allfather himself amongst the figures. She thinks her own father would have been able to give her some insight into the history…but she pushes the thought away. It will not do to be weeping when the Queen returns._

_Hearing footsteps, she hurries back toward the door, thinking it is Queen Frigga; instead, she finds Prince Loki approaching. She has only ever seen him at a distance, but she recognizes his dark clothes. Up close, he is much taller than she thought, his face brooding and austere. He stops short of the door when he sees her._

_“Who are you?” he asks. He’s not exactly unkind, but not particularly welcoming, either. Merely curious._

_“Sigyn, Your Highness. Sigyn Aradottir,” she replies, nearly forgetting to curtsy to him in her anxious state. “Her Majesty’s new handmaiden.”_

_“What happened to the last girl?”_

_“I believe she recently married, and left to start a family.”_

_“I see. Why are you out here? Does my mother have you studying the tapestries?” His eyes are enormous and intense, a shade of green she isn’t entirely sure she’s ever seen before, and it takes all her strength not to look away. She doesn’t want to offend him._

_“Oh, no,” she says, flustered. “I was told to wait here if no one answered the door.” She is certain he is judging her, and that she is coming up woefully short._

_“So, she is not here?”_

_“I can only assume not, Your Highness. I didn’t open the door.” She hopes he doesn’t find her impertinent for stating the obvious._

_He smiles at her then, his eyes going soft and his teeth perfect and white, and the change in his features from severe to boyish is striking; she is stunned by how handsome he truly is. “Of course not.” He looks at the door, then back at her. “Will you tell her that I stopped by to see her?”_

_“Yes, of course. Nothing more than that?”_

_“No,” he says. “Thank you, Sigrid.” He turns to walk back the way he came._

_“It’s Sigyn,” she says under her breath, only realizing she’s spoken aloud when for one step, he slows mid stride. She winces, positive he’s going to turn back to her and chastise her for correcting him, but he continues on, disappearing down the stairwell._

* * *

Sigyn had just found a comfortable spot in the bed when her mother returned with the healer – along with the queen and her new handmaiden, Helga. Sigyn had met her a few times in the previous months, and she seemed kind, if a little timid. She trailed behind Frigga as the queen approached, and her eyes went wide as Sigyn grimaced from the discomfort of another contraction.

“Don’t worry Helga,” said Sigyn, attempting to put the poor girl at ease. “This isn’t a duty the queen asks of _all_ her handmaidens.” She started to add that it didn’t matter anyway, as the queen was out of sons to offer, but she thought better of it, choosing to concentrate on her breathing instead.

Dagmar busied herself with the healer, gathering a table for her tools and a comfortable chair to set at the end of the bed before offering to make tea for everyone.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, Lady Sigmundsdottir,” said the queen. “Helga can make arrangements with the kitchens-“

“It’s no trouble, Your Majesty. I like to keep busy when I’m worried.”

“There’s no need to worry,” said Frigga, turning to Sigyn as she spoke. Sigyn wasn’t sure if she was talking to her mother or to her; she figured it was probably both of them. “How are you feeling, dear?” she asked, reaching to hold Sigyn’s hand in hers.

“Anxious,” said Sigyn, blowing a breath out between clenched teeth. “Anxious to get this over with, but also anxious to finally see my child.”

“As are we all.” She leaned in closely, her voice soft. “We should tell your mother the truth now. It won’t be hidden much longer.”

Sigyn had not told Dagmar about the baby’s true nature, not wanting for her to panic, but also not wanting her to spread rumors before the palace was ready to reveal the news. The queen was right, however – if she didn’t prepare her, Dagmar was likely to react badly if the baby’s appearance was different than expected.

“Yes, of course,” she said, watching as her mother poured several cups of tea, blissfully unaware of what she was about to learn about her grandchild.

* * *

_Loki taps his hand on the terrace balustrade, the very same terrace where he first kissed Sigyn a mere three weeks ago, each strike of his fingertips alternately creating and extinguishing one of the hairpins he secretly kept after removing them from her hair that night. He has asked her to meet him here after her duties; the wait is interminable, and he wonders idly if his mother is keeping her away to torture him._

_Much like his patience, he is already finding his resolve to take things slowly with her fading. His mother is still barring him from visiting during the day, so he has taken to meeting Sigyn outside his mother’s chambers every morning before her duties, even for just a few minutes – anything to get him through the long days of responsibilities before he can see her again. He is sure even that won’t be enough before long, but for now he stubbornly refuses to admit – even to himself – the intensity of his feelings for her._

_Finally, he hears her footsteps approaching, and he hides the hairpin once again before turning to greet her. “I thought you’d never show.”_

_“I’m no later than normal. Did you miss me that much?”_

_“Always,” he says, pulling her in for a small kiss before leading her to table in the sun, strewn with books and a basket of food. Sigyn takes a book – one of her favorite volumes of Midgardian poetry he notes – and kicks her shoes off before lying prone across the table top. “Comfortable, darling?” he asks, ignoring his desire to roll her over and test the strength of the table, choosing instead to settle into a chair beside it._

_“Yes, very,” she says, reaching into the basket and pulling out an apple. “It’s such a beautiful day. I’m glad you asked me to meet you out here.”_

_He picks up a book himself, not really reading it, but instead glancing at her over the pages. She has an endearing habit of biting her bottom lip when she concentrates, and as he watches her, he begins to feel the familiar stir in his gut, the one that is becoming increasingly more frequent the longer he is around her. He is just about to reach for her when a shadow passes over his book and a drop of rain hits the page he is reading._

_Before Loki can even get out a word of warning, the clouds overhead have increased exponentially, the sky cracking with a bright flash of lightning. The heavens open up, the sudden downpour drenching him and Sigyn before he can magic everything away. He grabs her hand as she scrambles down from the table, pulling her under an overhang on the side of the terrace._

_“Where did this come from?” she asks, her hair plastered to the sides of her face._

_Loki knows at once what has caused the shift in weather – Thor entertaining Sif in his chambers – but he just shrugs and feigns ignorance. He is already on edge; if Sigyn were to even look at him suggestively at the mention of sex, all of the gentlemanly behavior he is trying so hard to maintain will vanish._

_“Do you think it will last long?” she asks, peering out from under their shelter, and Loki takes the opportunity afforded by her inattention to admire the way her soaked dress clings to her breasts._

_As he watches, a single drop of rain runs down the side of her neck, pooling in the hollow at the base of her throat before continuing on down into her cleavage, and the urge to follow it with his tongue – to tear her dress from her body and cover her with kisses until the only moisture on her skin comes from his mouth – is maddening._

_“No,” he says, barely managing to lift his eyes before she turns back to him. “These kinds of storms never do.”_

_The words have barely left his lips when a massive lightning bolt lights up the sky, its proximity a little_ too _close, and Sigyn jumps, throwing her arms around him for protection. Before he can stop himself, his mouth is on hers, hungry and searching, and the press of her wet body to his leaves him breathless – and painfully hard._

_He pulls back. “Forgive me-“_

_“For what? For stopping?” she asks, leaning back in, her mouth slack and her eyes closed._

_“No,” he says, narrowly avoiding her lips and stepping away. “I…I’ve left something in my chambers. I’ll just be a moment.”_

_“Oh, I’d love to see your chambers. Let me come with you-“_

_“No!” His voice is too harsh, and he backtracks at the hurt look on her face. “They’re filthy – I’d hate for your first impression to be a disappointment,” he says, knowing full well they are absolutely spotless, but desperate for her to stay behind._

_“I don’t mind-“_

_“Look – the rain’s stopped, just as I told you it would,” he says, practically sprinting away. “Wait here…I’ll be back before you know it.”_

_The doors to his rooms aren’t even fully shut before he has his hand shoved down the front of his breeches. Three quick strokes and he’s finished, his release so forceful his head swims and his legs go weak. With a quick wave of his hand, the mess he has created disappears. It takes longer for his heart rate to settle, and as he sinks to the floor against the door it occurs to him that his complete absence of self-control would be amusing if it wasn’t so alarming._

_He hasn’t been this out of sorts since he was very young, just a boy still waking up in the night to a sweaty body and stained sheets. Sigyn’s effect on him is extraordinary, and even as he begins to understand he may not survive her, he is also grateful that at least his arousal is never heralded by a short-lived thunderstorm._

* * *

“Jotun?” asks Dagmar, incredulous. “You cannot be serious.”

“I’m afraid Sigyn is being truthful, Lady Sigmundsdottir,” said Frigga. “Loki was born on Jotunheim, and raised here by my husband and myself as our son.”

“No, no,” said Dagmar. “Maybe I wasn’t as _intimately_ familiar with him as Sigyn, or even you for that matter, but there’s no way he was jotun. No possible way.”

Frigga sighs. “I can assure you, we never intended to-“

“Mother, please,” says Sigyn. “It’s a long story, one we don’t have time for right now. I’m only telling you this to prepare you. We aren’t sure what this baby is going to look like – it won’t do to panic.”

Dagmar rubbed her hand on her forehead. “I don’t know what to say. Will you swear to me that you will tell me the entire story when this is over?”

“Yes, yes…of course,” said Sigyn. “Thank you, Moth-“ The words died in her throat as a flood of liquid poured out from between her legs, soaking the towels beneath her.

“Your water’s broken,” said the healer, kneeling down before her. “It won’t be long now.”

* * *

_Loki watches Sigyn in his peripheral vision as she rises from the sofa in front of the fire and saunters to the bed, careful to keep his eyes locked on the pages of his book. The spell he’s learning is vital. Thor’s coronation is just over a month away; now is not the time for distraction._

_He feels her eyes on him, knows without looking that she’s studying him…trying to get his attention without interrupting him. She unties her robe, shrugging it from her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor in a heap; beneath, she is clad in only her undergarments, and her bare skin glows in the light of the lamp on his desk. He could be to her in less than five seconds – inside her in less than ten – but he resists, shifting in his seat to ease the pressure on his rapidly growing cock, not once lifting his eyes from the incantation before him._

_She hooks her fingers into her undergarments, sliding them off her legs in a deliberately sensual manner before standing upright once again. Tossing them his direction, she sighs loudly when they fall short of his desk. Loki closes his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers as if trying to stay awake – when in actuality he is trying to ignore how desperately he wants to bury his face between her thighs. When he opens them again, she has given up her efforts of seducing him and is lying in the bed, her eyes closed and the furs pulled up to her chin. He thinks he sees the glint of a tear on her cheek, but he isn’t sure. It could just be a trick of the light._

_An hour later and he is finished with his studying for the night, satisfied with the progress he’s making. After a quick trip to the washroom to prepare for bed, he crosses the room once more, tossing his own robe aside before slipping beneath the furs opposite Sigyn’s sleeping form._

_Doing so shifts the covers from her body, revealing a bare shoulder to his gaze. He has left the lamp on his desk illuminated for just this reason; he is never happier than when he is watching her, especially when she is unaware. He reaches for her beneath the sheets, trailing his fingers up the inside of her thigh, and she stirs, turning to face him._

_“What took you so long?” she asks, a pout on her face as she arches her back off the bed in a languid stretch._

_“Am I too late?”_

_She peers up at him, her blue eyes wide in the dim light, her initial frustration giving way to the slightest of smiles. “Never too late, love. Never.”_

_He grins as he pulls her close with a kiss, starting on her mouth before moving lower – down her neck, through the valley of her chest, counting each of her ribs with his lips, first down one side and then up the other, before swirling his tongue over the swell of each breast in turn. His hands are not idle, working her into a frenzy until she is slick and gasping and begging for him to take her._

_At last, he covers her body with his, settling himself between her legs. He slides into her with a practiced ease, and the happy sigh she emits, coupled with her nails scraping the flesh of his back, nearly undoes him at once. She pulls him in, hotter than the fires of Muspelheim and twice again as radiant, and Loki is certain that when the time comes and he must die, nothing in Valhalla will possibly compare to the beauty lying beneath him._

_They move together as one, hips meeting hips, mouths and hands alternately locked together and roaming their bodies. It has been far too long since they were intimate; they are unhurried in their pace, and yet they reach their peaks swiftly and almost simultaneously._

_Loki kisses her deeply as she clings to him, the flutters of her release drawing out the last of his own, and he thinks that if he has ever been content in his life, it’s surely in this moment, in Sigyn’s arms._

_He lifts his head once his breath starts to settle.  “Forgive me for making you wait. Have I made it up to you?”_

_She smiles up at him, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed and lips thoroughly kissed, and his heart skips a beat. “I don’t know...maybe you should try again to be sure.”_

_He dips his head down, reveling in her giggle as he nuzzles into her neck. “I believe that can be arranged.”_

* * *

Hours into labor, and no sooner had one contraction ended before another followed. Sigyn was positive she was dying, and all the months of waiting and preparing had been in vain. _This baby is going to be an orphan before it even leaves my body. How terribly unfair._

Everyone in the room faded away – her mother as she dabbed a cool cloth to her head; the queen as she stood on the other side, holding her hand; even the healer as she waited at the foot of the bed. Sigyn’s body took over, working almost without her assistance; it was the oddest feeling – being at once in control and yet completely out of control. She couldn’t have explained it, even if she’d had the ability to do more in that moment than cry out. It was a mother’s cry, a primal cry, a _warrior’s_ cry, and with it she could feel a kinship with the generations of women before her – from her own mother to the Allfather’s mother – who had endured the anguish of childbirth to bring the promise of a new life into the world.

Something inside her shifted; in addition to the pain she now felt an unrelenting heaviness, an overwhelming need to _push push PUSH_ , and distantly she could hear the healer telling her she was doing wonderfully, and that she could see the baby’s head. A newfound strength overtook her; if she _was_ going to die, it wouldn’t be before she could see her child for herself.

Sigyn sucked in a hard breath, pushing once, twice, three times more…and with one final wail the unbearable pressure was suddenly lifted. She looked down between her trembling legs to watch the healer as she grasped a slippery bundle, writhing and screaming just as she had been mere seconds before.

“It’s a boy, my lady. You have a son.”

“A son?” asked Sigyn, her voice barely audible through panting breaths.

The healer wiped him down and wrapped him loosely in a blanket, passing him up to his mother’s waiting arms.

Sigyn had never seen a more beautiful being in her life – he was pale blue, with strange, symmetrical ridges covering his body. He had a head full of black hair, long fingers, and his features – though still swollen and puffy from his birth – were exactly like his father’s. Sigyn burst into tears at the sight of him.

Dagmar leaned over, stroking Sigyn’s hair and kissing her sweaty forehead. “I’m so proud of you, darling. He’s beautiful.”

Sigyn grasped her son’s tiny hand. “Ari. I want to name him Ari, after my father.” She looked to the queen. “If you approve, of course.”

“Ari Lokason,” said Frigga, wiping a tear from her cheek. “It’s perfect. Loki would have been so proud.”

* * *

_It is the day before Thor’s coronation, and Loki has managed to momentarily sneak away from his father and brother. They have been bickering for hours over some of the more tedious details of the ceremony, and Loki is weary of listening to them. He figures he only has a short time before someone comes looking for him, but for now he is enjoying the quiet._

_He goes to the banquet hall, hoping to catch his mother and Sigyn there._

_He sees them as he rounds a large pillar, and he stays back, content to observe and not intrude. They are at the end of the room, the queen surveying the celebration preparations as Sigyn follows behind, scribbling copious notes as the queen talks._

_Frigga turns his direction and catches him, giving him a knowing look before turning and whispering to Sigyn. She looks to him before setting her notes down on the table and hurrying to his side._

_He doesn’t go to meet her, instead staying where he is and enjoying the view as she approaches him – her smile bright enough to light the entire room. He has been neglectful of her lately, taking her for granted, a wrong he intends to spend the rest of his life atoning for – beginning the very next day by making her his wife. If Loki believed in the notion of luck, he would undoubtedly count himself among the most fortunate men who ever lived to have a woman like Sigyn to call his own._

_“This is a surprise,” she says as she nears him. “I didn’t think I’d see you until tonight.”_

_He holds his arms out, and she goes to him, unashamedly enjoying his embrace even in front of his mother. “I couldn’t wait that long. I needed to see you now.”_

_“Is everything alright? You look…oh, I don’t know. Thoughtful.”_

_“I’ve never been better, love,” he says, and they are among the most truthful words the greatest liesmith of Asgard has ever uttered. “Never been better.”_

* * *

A short time later, there was a knock on Sigyn’s door, and Frigga sent Helga to answer it.

Sigyn had been cleaned up, reluctantly allowing the healer to take Ari from her for a short time to be washed and checked over. She was attempting to nurse him when Helga came back.

“It’s Prince Thor…and His Majesty.”

Frigga looked at Sigyn, silently asking for her permission. Sigyn gave her a slight nod and the queen turned back to Helga. “See them in.”

Thor peeked his head around the doorframe first as Helga opened it, his face as open and expectant as Sigyn had ever seen it, and she couldn’t help but smile.

Sigyn had avoided the topic of Thor’s proposal with him, and he had in turn not brought it up again. Even Sif’s animosity toward her had eventually receded; Sigyn supposed the frequent thunderstorms that graced the palace for weeks after was evidence of Thor reassuring Sif of his loyalty – at least his physical loyalty – to her. She knew he hadn’t forgotten their potential arrangement however, and that he would likely revisit the subject once her mourning period neared its end. But for now, they could put any awkwardness aside and celebrate the newest member of the royal family together.

“It’s a boy, Thor. Come see.”

He crossed the room, as quickly and quietly as his bulk would allow, and leaned over to look at his new nephew.

“He’s so small,” he said, his words full of awe. “Amazing.”

“Would you like to hold him?”

“You would let me?”

“Absolutely. I trust you.” She held Ari out to him, and he lifted him up, cradling him gently into his massive arms. “His name is Ari.”

“Ari. A fine name. A strong name.” He looked down at the baby, gingerly reaching out to touch his hand. “Strong like your fath-“ he started, his words cutting off as Ari started to cry. “Oh, no don’t cry little one. Ah!” He pulled his hand back with a start. “He’s burned me!”

“It’s his jotun defense, my son. He will learn to control it in time.”

Sigyn had been so caught up in watching Thor that she hadn’t even noticed Odin standing behind him. She swallowed thickly, not sure what to say to him.

“If his mother would allow it,” he said, looking at her, “I would hold my grandchild.”

“Of course,” said Sigyn, watching with bated breath as he took Ari from Thor.

He cradled the baby gently, and to Sigyn’s surprise Ari began to calm at once. Odin looked down on him, and Sigyn could plainly see a hint of sadness cross his features before being replaced by his usual stoicism. He turned back to her. “You have done well, my child.”

“Thank you, Allfather,” she said, taking Ari back as Odin held him out to her.

She looked down into the face of her son, his eyes – the lovely newborn blue of an Aesir – peering up into hers, and she made him a silent promise.

_I love you my darling boy, my precious Ari. No matter what, I will see the destruction of the Nine Realms before I allow harm to come to you or anyone to take you from me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick word about names: I am very aware that the mythological Sigyn and Loki had twin boys named Narvi and Valli, but their tale is unbelievably sad and depressing, so I have chosen to go a different route with my story. Illusion was never meant to be a faithful retelling of the Sigyn/Loki story from the myths and/or the comics anyway. <3
> 
> As far as pronunciation and spelling - I have tried my best to do at least some research on names and patronymics. "Ari" (according to my research) should be pronounced "Air-ee", and means "eagle". You will also notice that Sigyn's patronymic is "Aradottir", not "Aridottir", and Ari is a "Lokason", not a "Lokison". Again, according to my research, when the father's name ends in '-i', it is changed to '-a' for the patronymic. I certainly don't profess to be an expert on the subject, however, so if anyone has better information, feel free to correct me. :)


	25. Chapter 25

_The Other_ – that was what Loki had taken to calling his tormentor.

Almost all of the creatures on the desolate rock were mindless slaves, not meant for any sort of decision making or autonomy. In a way, Loki envied them – their pointless existence and meaningless lives. How much simpler would everything be if he lived as they lived?

Then there was The Other. Now _he_ was a creature with purpose. Single-minded and driven, his sole task was to collect any and all information that could be used to control Loki – a task he had set about with relish and determination.

The passage of time was difficult to determine, with only the weak light of a distant star for illumination making the difference between day and night almost impossible to perceive. Regardless, The Other didn’t seem to need much rest; he was constantly at Loki’s side, pressing his revolting hands to Loki’s face and opening up his thoughts and memories, gathering the very best – and very worst – of what he could find to use against him.

Loki pulled at his chains until his muscles burned and his skin tore where his wrists were cuffed, yet remained utterly unable to resist the mental invasions no matter how much effort he managed to put forth; nothing could be kept hidden from The Other’s prying.

Each time he was subjected to The Other’s torture was worse than the time that preceded it. The creature not only collected Loki’s memories, but warped them to his purpose. It became more difficult with each passing day for Loki to distinguish between his real memories and the false ones implanted by his captor. Recollections of hate and anger began to outnumber those of love and pleasure, to the point that he feared he had imagined them all in the first place.

Once the creature had gleaned a satisfactory amount of information, including names and locations of everyone and everything Loki still held dear, The Other had released Loki from his chains only long enough to throw him into a makeshift cell. It contained a rudimentary bed, and Loki had fallen into it and into a dark, dreamless sleep, the most rest he’d had in one stretch since he’d arrived. His rations were increased by the tiniest of margins, allowing him to regain enough strength to walk without too much trouble. However, as weak as he remained, the most powerful of his magic spells – spells that could wipe out his tormentor in an instant – were still beyond his reach.   

Finally, the day arrived when The Other came to him bearing gifts. His clothing – or what remained of the garments he had been wearing when he arrived – had been fashioned into the closest approximation of his armor they could create. The Other had clearly had some input with Loki’s memories, as they had even produced a new helmet to replace the one Loki had lost on Asgard.

“My Master wishes to see you. The time has come for you to prove your worth.”

* * *

Sigyn rushed up the stairs to the royal apartments, her books pressed to her chest. When Ari was first born, she had focused solely on him; but when he was two months old, she had resumed her work with her tutor. She hated to leave her son, so most of the time he accompanied her, along with his nursemaid Dalla. Occasionally, however, the queen herself would want to spend time with him, and on those days Dalla would take him to the queen’s private gardens.

It was one of the few places that Ari could get fresh air without the worry of him being seen by unfriendly eyes. Upon his birth, Odin had insisted Sigyn allow him to put a spell on Ari that would hide his jotun features.

“It has been less than a year since Frost Giants attacked Asgard,” he told her. “If Ari were to be seen for what he truly is, if the knowledge of his heritage were to become known – I cannot assure that his life wouldn’t be in grave danger.”

“I have no intention of hiding the truth from my son the way you did with Loki,” she had argued. “ _He_ will never worry that I was ashamed of him. That I never loved him unconditionally, exactly as he was brought into this world.”

They had fought the point for days, until they had eventually come to a compromise – for her child’s safety, Sigyn allowed Odin to place an enchantment on Ari that would cloak him as full Aesir, but only when he was outside the walls of the palace. When he was older and more capable of defending himself, the spell would be removed from him.

Her sole concession had been when the new prince had been presented to the realm. Until Thor had a child of his own, Ari was second in line to the throne of Asgard, just as his father had been. The ceremonies and celebrations had been lavish, taking place over the course of three full days, with every citizen of Asgard trying their best to get a peek at the most recent addition to the royal family. Most never got close enough, but Sigyn agreed that they couldn’t run the risk of discovery, not yet, and so the enchantment had remained in place at all times until the celebrations were concluded.

Nevertheless, even within the safety of his home, Sigyn preferred to keep Ari confined to certain areas where he would have the fewest restrictions. Not many of the palace workers were allowed to see him up close without his enchantment – and those that had were sworn to secrecy about him, under penalty of imprisonment if they failed to stay silent.

Among those lucky few – other than Dalla and Sigyn’s mother – were Edmund and Ingrid. Not long after Ari’s birth, Ingrid’s urge to have a child of her own had at last succeeded in getting Edmund to marry her. Sigyn wouldn’t have been surprised to receive news that she was going to be an aunt herself before long.

Ingrid adored her new nephew, doting on him every chance she had, but Edmund was more…reserved. It didn’t matter that neither Sigyn nor Loki himself had been aware of Loki’s true nature when Ari was conceived; Edmund could not see past his near death experience in the weapons vault at the hands of creatures that to _him_ looked just like Ari. Sigyn hoped that time would allow Edmund to grow closer to his nephew, but she wouldn’t try to push him.

At last, Sigyn reached the doors to Frigga’s private gardens. While she had gladly accepted the offer of a nursemaid to help her, she had steadfastly refused a wet nurse. Her studies usually kept her gone no more than a few hours, but this day they had run late; if she didn’t feed him soon, she was going to soak through the bodice of her dress.

She was anxious as she stepped into the gardens, fully expecting to hear the wails of a ravenous baby crying for her, but she was instead greeted with the sight of Frigga sitting in a chair and holding Ari in her lap, beaming at him as he attempted to grab a stray lock of her hair as it dangled in front of his face. As Sigyn came closer, she thought she could hear her talking to Ari about Loki. Sigyn was happy that between herself and the queen, Ari would never wonder what kind of man his father had been. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” said Sigyn. “I expected to be back sooner than this.”

At the sound of his mother’s voice, Ari turned his head and began to pump his legs and arms excitedly.

“Oh, it’s no trouble, dear,” said Frigga. “He and I have had a wonderful time together, haven’t we darling?” In response, Ari – who only cared that his next meal had just arrived – began to whimper.

Frigga stood with him, cuddling him once more before passing him over. She motioned to the chair she had just vacated, indicating Sigyn should sit with him. “Mothers always win over grandmothers, especially when you’re hungry.”

Sigyn sat quickly, cradling Ari in one arm as she deftly opened a panel at the side of her dress. He latched on at once, and she watched his sweet little face as he nursed, relief flooding through her as her milk let down. His mouth was cold on her breast, a fact she still wasn’t quite used to, even as he neared four months of age.

He wasn’t a quiet eater, given to making little grunts and groans as he ate. He had a voracious appetite, one that still had him waking her at least once a night to feed. It didn’t take long for him to finish one side, and so she switched him to her other breast. She had a habit of tracing the markings on his face and humming to him as he nursed; it seemed to calm him immensely, and as she watched, his eyelids began to grow heavy and droop. As soon as she was certain he was asleep, she had Dalla take him and put him on a blanket in the shade of an apple tree to nap.

“He reminds me so much of Loki,” said Frigga, watching him wistfully. “I believe Ari is about the age he was when he came to us.”

“Forgive me for prying, Your Majesty – but how did you pass Loki off as your son for so long? Surely the people of Asgard didn’t believe you were pregnant before his arrival.”

“You would be surprised how few people questioned it. Odin had just returned, triumphant from battle. We waited a short time before announcing Loki’s birth; the official story was that my pregnancy had been hidden until the war was won and we were safe. Asgard was quick to accept a second prince for their victorious king and his queen; any doubts people may have harbored were forgotten as he grew alongside his brother. It was quite difficult for him, being raised with a brother as admired as Thor. But Loki was wrong if he thought the people of Asgard didn’t respect him in their own way. He may have felt inferior to Thor as they got older, but it isn’t because he’s not loved.”

The queen had slipped into referring to Loki in the present tense, but Sigyn didn’t say anything – it had to be a difficult habit to break.  

Frigga looked toward her grandson as he slept, and Sigyn remained quiet, unsure of what to say. “How are your studies coming along?” the queen asked after a moment, breaking the silence and indicating the books Sigyn had been carrying.

“Wonderfully,” said Sigyn. “My tutor has been pushing me hard, but he says I’m picking up the information quickly. He would like for me to begin studying Midgard next. I was actually hoping to find Thor to ask him about it, given that he’s been there recently, but I haven’t seen him in days.”  

“He’s actually away on official business,” said Frigga, and as Sigyn watched a faint emotion passed over the queen’s face – a strange combination of apprehension and excitement. It vanished as quickly as it had come. “Unrest on Midgard as it happens. The Allfather has sent him there, but he should be back before long.”

Sigyn knew the repairs to the Observatory were not yet complete – whatever business Thor was on must have been important indeed if the Allfather was willing to use his considerable powers to send him to Midgard without the use of the Bifröst.

“I hope he returns safely,” she said. “And soon.”

In reality, Sigyn also wanted to talk to him about his proposal – Edmund and Ingrid’s recent marriage, along with the impending end of her mourning period, had put it at the forefront of Sigyn’s mind yet again.

She had thought over every scenario, every way that marrying Thor would be a benefit to her and to Ari, but in the end she knew she could never do it. Her heart still belonged to Loki. To marry his brother would be too great an insult to his memory, one she couldn’t bring herself to commit. It pained her to think she might never have another lover for the rest of her life, but she could instead devote her time and energy to Ari. She could think of no better way to honor Loki than to raise his son to be a fine man.

* * *

It was still dark outside when Sigyn stirred to sound of Ari’s cries; she hoped one day a full-night’s rest would be hers to enjoy again, but for now her son wasn’t shy of demanding a meal, whether his mother was sleeping or not.

Rising from her bed, she went to him in his crib. Originally in the attached nursery, Sigyn had requested it be moved to her bedside after he was born, wanting him as near to her as possible. She changed his swaddling bands, ensuring he was dry and comfortable before lifting him up and snuggling him to her chest.

She fed him, hoping he would settle down quickly, but Ari wasn’t quite ready to fall back asleep. Instead he smiled happily up at her with a twinkle in his enormous blue eyes – exactly like Loki’s in all but color.

“Let’s go count the stars, shall we?” she asked with a sigh, throwing on her robe and slippers and wrapping Ari up before walking out onto the balcony. There were two chairs at a small table - she settled into one, propping her feet on another so she could lay Ari on her legs. He grasped her fingers in his tiny hands, gurgling and cooing…and showing no signs of drowsiness.

Before too long, afraid she would nod off herself if she sat still for too long, Sigyn stood with him and walked around the balcony, hoping the movement would lull him back to sleep. Just as he started to grow still on her shoulder, a distant light emanating from The Observatory caught her attention.

It was strange – the repairs were going well, but as far as she knew they were only being completed during the day. She had just about decided they were doing discreet tests on its viability when she noticed something even stranger – a group of royal guards on horseback, galloping full tilt down the Bifröst toward the distant structure. 

Curiosity outweighed her fatigue; she had to know what was going on.

It still amazed her how quiet the palace could be during the night; she saw no one as she sneaked through the corridors, Ari sleeping peacefully on her shoulder. Whatever was happening, she hoped she could figure it out and make it back to her rooms and get him in bed before he could wake again.

She made her way to the terminus of the Bifröst, stepping out into the moonlit courtyard to find it also devoid of people. She looked down to her son’s face as he slept, watching as the enchantment slipped into place outside of the palace walls; his blue skin turned the pale pink shade of her own, his jotun markings receding to nothing. It still saddened her to watch the transformation, to know that it was necessary for his safety. He was beautiful to her just as he was – she could only hope one day the people of Asgard would love him as much as she did, regardless of his true appearance.

The sounds of horses on the bridge pulled her from her thoughts, and she stepped behind a large pillar just before they came into view.

She saw Thor first, his red cape bright even in the moonlight. He was not alone on his horse; as Sigyn watched he pulled his steed to a stop, dismounting before turning back to help his passenger down. From where she stood, it was difficult to make out much more than the man’s clothing – dark and strangely familiar. At first, she thought he was injured and unable to help himself, but the glint of shackles around his wrists and a muzzle partially concealing his face revealed him to be a prisoner. That explained the accompanying guards – but why would Thor need to bring a Midgardian prisoner to Asgard?

Thor leaned in closely to the captive, obscuring him from view and speaking to him in a voice too low for Sigyn to hear. She crept closer, but tried to stay hidden in the shadows.

“We will take him to the dungeons,” said Thor to one of the guards, loud enough for Sigyn to hear him easily. “Father can speak to him tomorrow, once the sun is up. He can then decide how we will handle his punishment.” He grabbed the prisoner by his shoulder, intending to guide him forward, but the shackled man shrugged his hand away. Thor let his hand fall to his side, a peculiar air of defeat surrounding him as the prisoner moved forward of his own volition.

Sigyn didn’t realize how tightly she had been holding onto Ari as she strained to see what was going on. He suddenly wriggled in her grasp, a tiny cry escaping his lips before she could settle him.

As one, the entire group snapped their heads her direction. She happened to be looking directly at the prisoner when his eyes locked on hers, and she stumbled back in recognition.

They were the same eyes she had seen every day for months in the face of her son. Eyes that could only belong to one man.

_”Loki?”_


	26. Chapter 26

“Loki?”

Sigyn stepped forward in a trance, her ears ringing and her feet barely able to feel the ground beneath them. She could almost convince herself she was asleep, that she was ensconced in her bed and in the throes of a particularly lucid dream – if it hadn’t been for the infant she held, now fully alert and squirming, his whimpers rapidly becoming louder and more insistent.

She barely registered any of it, unable as she was to look away from the shackled man – _Loki, it’s Loki, it has to be, but that’s not possible_ – whose face was bruised and bloodied, whose body was so sharp and tense she thought to touch him would shatter him where he stood, whose eyes were wild with pain and memories and recognition of _her_ …but not the child in her arms.

His eyes dropped to Ari, and hers followed…to take in the wailing countenance of a fully-Aesir looking baby, the enchantment still concealing all of his jotun features. She looked back to the man – Loki, unquestionably Loki – in time to watch a full range of emotions cross what she could see of his face above the muzzle – going from pain to confusion to sorrow with a startling swiftness – before settling on an expression so flat and devoid of emotion it chilled the blood in her veins. _He doesn’t know this is his child._

She opened her mouth to speak, the words _This is your son!_ on the tip of her tongue; but her view was abruptly and completely blocked by a large form in armor and a red cape.

“Sigyn! What are you doing out here?!” Thor didn’t wait for an answer, turning back to the group to bark out an order. “Take him away! Through the back corridors – let no one else see!”

“Thor, it’s Loki,” she said, still in a daze. Did he not recognize who he’d brought back from Midgard? “It’s Loki,” she said again, attempting to push past him and getting nowhere. “I…he needs…just let me _talk_ to him-“

“No,” he said, holding her firmly in place. “He’s not the man you knew, Sigyn.”

“What? What are you talking about? It’s _Loki_ ,” she said once more, trying in vain to get him to understand. She was able to peek around one of Thor’s massive arms just long enough to see the group of guards vanish into a side door, Loki hidden amongst them.

“Where are they taking him? And why is he shackled?”

“I don’t have time to explain right now. Take Ari back to your rooms. I will find you later and tell you everything you wish to know.”

“But Thor-“ 

“ _Now_ , Sigyn.”

His tone was harsh and final, and it rendered her unable to respond before he turned and walked away, disappearing into the same side door Loki had been taken through. By the time she willed her feet to move, the door had shut and locked from the inside, leaving her alone to wonder if she’d imagined the whole exchange.

* * *

They had promised Loki a kingdom of his own; instead, he was broken and ruined, being dragged to the dungeons of Asgard by a few of the very guards that had once pledged to serve him and his family – _not really your family, Loki, never forget it_ – utterly defeated and alone.

The Midgardians had been more resilient than he’d expected, but even the toughest among them couldn’t have matched his power at full strength. Yet the Other had been afraid of being unable to control him, and as such, had kept Loki weak. It had been a fatal mistake.

Still, he’d held his own, even managing to control dozens of the mortals to his purpose – until Thor had arrived. That was one of the few things he hadn’t planned for.

Loki had been stunned when his brother – _not brother_ – had shown up on that Midgardian flying contraption, all muscles and rage, plowing through the man in the metal suit as though he was no more than an insect. Stunned, and though he would be loath to admit it, a little _relieved_.

But any hopefulness he may have harbored dissipated quickly when the first words out of Thor’s mouth were not _I’m here to help you_ or _I’m so happy you’re alive_ but instead, _Where is the Tesseract?_

He’d allowed himself to believe that Odin had been concerned enough about _him_ to send Thor; but no, his brother – **_not_** _brother, you idiot, how many times must you remind yourself_ – had merely been there to help those Midgardian maggots and retrieve the Tesseract.

From then on, everything had started to come apart. Try as he might, he could never quite gain ground on the mortals again, and in the end he’d found himself smashed into the floor of the metal man’s living chambers by a beast of a creature, surrounded by “Earth’s mightiest heroes” as Stark had called them. Mighty enough to bring a god to his knees – but only because he was weakened and they had another, stronger god on their side.

The shackles had been degrading enough, but the muzzle had added another level of humiliation that had almost been too much to bear. The only thing that kept him going was the promise that he was going back to Asgard. He knew they’d never let him see her, but he had to know that Sigyn was at least safe.

Thor hadn’t mentioned her once on Midgard. It hadn’t surprised Loki – they had been a little _busy_ after all – but now he knew better. Thor hadn’t wanted him to know the truth.

There she’d been, hiding at the end of the Bifröst when they’d arrived, and he could have wept at the sight of her…but she hadn’t been alone. A beautiful, pink, _Aesir_ baby in her arms and a wedding ring on her finger. She’d plainly wasted no time moving on from him after he’d let her go.

Loki would never admit it to anyone, but he’d been a fool. He’d allowed himself to hope there was still a chance that he could redeem himself and possibly gain back some of what he’d lost, but it was clear now everything he’d ever wanted was gone for good.

The guards shoved him into a small holding cell, not daring to remove the shackles or muzzle for fear of what he would do to them if they did. He didn’t even look at them; he just collapsed onto the small bench situated in the corner, waiting for his former father to come and mete out his punishment. Left with only his fractious thoughts, Loki hoped Odin would put him out of his misery and kill him quickly.

* * *

Sigyn stood outside Frigga’s chambers waiting for the guard that had been stationed outside to fetch the queen, Ari crying steadily on her shoulder. She should have gone straight back to her own chambers as Thor had asked, but she was desperate for answers.

Frigga finally appeared after what seemed ages. Dressed in her robe with her hair braided over her shoulder; she had clearly been asleep, yet she ushered Sigyn in without hesitation.

“What is it dear?” she asked, directing Sigyn to a chair. “What’s happened?”

Ari began to relax the moment he started nursing, and with his cries quieted, Sigyn was at last able to calm herself long enough to gather her wits.

“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty, but I didn’t know where else to go,” she began. She told the queen everything, how she’d seen the Observatory light up, and then sneaked down to the Bifröst in time to see Thor return – with Loki. “He had him chained up like a _criminal_. He wouldn’t even let me speak to him! Why would he do that?”

At the mention of Loki’s name, the queen had fallen into the nearest chair, her hand over her mouth. “I knew Thor would return him to us.”

Sigyn just looked at her, agape. “Did you – did you _know_ he was alive?”

“Only recently did we receive word –“

“Why did you not tell me?!” Sigyn’s sharp voice startled Ari, who had nearly been asleep once again, and he began to whimper. She switched him to her other breast, shushing him and tracing his facial markings until he settled down. “Forgive me,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I meant no disrespect.”

“Sigyn, we didn’t want to raise your hopes, in case Thor was unsuccessful in retrieving him. That would have been too cruel.”

“And bringing him home in chains wasn’t? What could he possibly have done to warrant that kind of treatment?”

“We aren’t clear on all the details, but it seems Loki was working for someone in pursuit of an artifact on Midgard. That Thor has returned with him must mean he was able to not only rescue his brother, but gain the artifact as well.”

“So, he is no more than a prisoner now? Will I ever get to speak to him?”

“Absolutely. I will make sure of it.” Frigga knelt down beside Sigyn, looking at the peaceful face of her grandson as he slept. “Your father is not lost to us forever, little one. He just needs a little help finding his way back.”

* * *

Loki didn’t have to wait long for his first visitor. No sooner had the guards left before Thor was opening his cell door.

“Those shackles are preventing you from using any magic. If I remove the muzzle, will you talk to me?”

Loki nodded. If he was going to have a private audience with Thor, he might as well use the opportunity to have some of his many questions answered.

Thor approached him warily, reaching behind Loki’s hair to unclasp the muzzle. As soon as it was clear of his mouth, Loki spoke. “I’m thirsty. Can you spare your prisoner some water?”

“You will have everything you need in time. For now, I wish to talk.”

“Then talk.”

“Sigyn wasn’t supposed to be there,” said Thor, his eyes sorrowful.

“Why not?  You didn’t wish to parade me in front of her like a common criminal?”

“It was never my intention for her to see you just yet.”

“And why would she want to see me at all? She’s obviously doing quite well for herself without me.”

“Are you so blinded by your anger that you can’t see the truth?”

“And what truth is that, dear _brother_? That she couldn’t bear to be alone, that she tethered herself to the first inferior man that came along, spread her legs wide for him and gave _him_ a child? Please, enlighten me.”

Thor’s hand was around his neck before he could draw another breath. “Speak ill of her again, and I will rip your tongue from your mouth and sew your damned lips shut myself.”

Loki couldn’t stop the malicious smile as it spread across his features; Thor was so quick to come to Sigyn’s defense, there had to be only one explanation – _Thor_ must have been the father of her baby. If he’d had the use of his hands, Loki would have fought back, hoping they could kill each other once and for all; yet he could only stand there, helpless to the unbidden images flooding his mind, images of Thor and Sigyn together. As soon as the grip around his neck began to loosen, he spoke again.

“Oh, I see now. That’s _your_ child, isn’t it? I had something you couldn’t, and so once I was gone you took it for yourself. Tell me, then. When you were comforting her in her grief…was her cunt as wonderful as you’d imagined it to be?”

Thor grip tightened, even more forceful than before, before he lifted Loki up and threw him against the far wall, hard enough to hurt but not kill. Still shackled and terribly weak, Loki was unable to stop himself from slumping to the ground in a heap, still miserably alive when all he wanted was for his wretched existence to come to an end.

“You aren’t worthy of her, or what she’s done for you.”

“And what exactly has she done for me?” asked Loki, fresh blood dripping from the cut across the bridge of his nose.

“She has given you a son. _You_ are his father, Loki.”  

Loki looked up from the floor, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not possible. You’re a liar.” Even as he said it, he knew he was wrong. Thor was virtually incapable of lying, even to save his own skin.

“I speak the truth. She discovered she was with child a week after what we all believed was your death.”

Loki shook his head. “That baby was clearly Aesir. Now, I’m no expert,” he scoffed, “but I’m fairly sure a half-jotun baby wouldn’t look like that.”

“It’s an enchantment, put in place to protect him outside the walls of the palace.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Loki, yet there was no conviction in his words.

“Believe me or not. It doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Odin, he would never allow a half-jotun child to be born in Asgard.”

“Sigyn informed him it wasn’t his decision to make.” Thor stood over Loki, looming over him with undisguised contempt.

Loki turned away from him, his mind reeling. “Why would she do that?”

“Because she loved you. _Still_ loves you. And your son. She risked her life to bring your child into this world. Even if you’re no longer able to love her in return, she at least deserves your respect, not your cruel words.”

Loki turned back to Thor. “Why did you not tell me before, on Midgard?”

“I was told not to by father. He feared you would think it a trick to force your return to Asgard. I disagreed at the time, but now I see he was right. You have the proof right in front of your eyes, and yet you _still_ don’t believe it.”

Loki sighed; he knew in his heart Thor was telling the truth, but it was so difficult to absorb the information he was being given. “She was wearing a wedding ring. Do you have an explanation for that as well?”

“I think you would recognize it if you saw it up close. It’s the one you had made for her.”

Loki got to his feet as quickly as he could manage, closing the distance between them with gritted teeth. “That wasn’t yours to give.”

“ _I_ didn’t give it to her. _Mother_ did, and you should be grateful for it. She spared Sigyn the indignity of being an unwed mother, allowing her to pass herself off as your widow instead.”

“And what will she be now? A martyr to a dishonored husband, broken and shamed? Or is the Allfather planning on finishing what he should have done all those years ago to make her a widow in truth?”

“Your punishment has not yet been decided, Loki-“

“What is he waiting for!? I’m here, at his mercy. Why drag it out?”

“Because of your son. Father believes there is still good in you. That you still have it in you to be the best man – and _father_ – you are capable of being.”

“Ah, yes. Because he was _such_ a wonderful role model for me.”

“Your bitterness will only serve to destroy you, Loki. It is not yet too late to change your fate.”

Loki sat hard on the bench, the manacles on his wrists clinking together, all of the fight in him gone. “My fate was decided long ago, when your father stole me from my home and raised me as something I’m not.”

“Get some rest,” said Thor. “We have a lot to discuss tomorrow. Perhaps you can even properly meet your son.” He stood there, waiting for a response, but Loki just sat in silence until Thor turned and left.

“My son,” said Loki, once he was certain he was alone. “Heir to my misfortune.”

* * *

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the guards came for him once more. If he’d been able to sleep at all, he couldn’t remember; his exhaustion prevented him from putting up any sort of fight as the guards moved him from his holding cell to a larger room at the end of the hall.

There were runes carved into the threshold of the doorway. As he passed through it, he could feel the enchantment in the room that prevented him from using the most dangerous of his spells, rendering him no more powerful than he had been as a child, just learning rudimentary magic. Once the door was shut behind him, the guard on his left pulled out a key and removed Loki’s shackles before shoving him into the single chair in the center of the room, hastily retreating from the room with his companion as soon as he was finished.

Loki rubbed his wrists where the cuffs had chafed them, calling forth the most basic and harmless healing spell he could manage to ease the irritation. Even that was a struggle; the runes on the door had been complicated and ancient, far beyond his ability to overcome.

The door opened once again, and he didn’t even need to turn to it to know who had entered.

“Allfather. Come to make an example of me?”

“Come to speak to you.”

“What is there to discuss?”

“Your future,” said Odin, stepping in front of Loki to look down on him with a weary expression. “You have many choices ahead of you, my son –“

“I am _not_ your son.”

“I spared your life once –“

“And _I_ spared _yours_. In the weapons vault that day, I could have ended you as you slipped into sleep, and no one would have been the wiser.”

“And yet you didn’t. What stayed your hand?”

“Love. Misguided, foolish love. And look where it’s brought me,” said Loki, indicating the room they were in. “A prison cell in the only home I’ve ever known. Punished for trying to live up to your expectations of a son.”

“It is a punishment for me as well, to see you here. To wonder what I could have done differently. To wonder how it could have ever come to this.”

“You should have left me to die on Jotunheim. Think of all the heartache you would have been spared.”

“I will never regret saving you, Loki. You will always be my son. Once formed, a father’s love is not so easily extinguished, regardless of the selfish actions of his child. Something I hope you will learn for yourself before long.”

“What do you mean?”

“You saw your child, did you not?”

“I saw _a_ child, yes.”

“ _Your_ child. Cooperate now, and you may yet see him grow to be a man.”

“From a prison cell? How will that be a benefit to either of us?”

“This doesn’t need to be a permanent solution for you, Loki. As I said, you have many choices ahead of you. Let us hope you are still able to make wise decisions. But before then, I must take precautions.”

He raised his hands out to Loki, the words from his lips sealing almost all of Loki’s magic from his use. Loki could feel the words like a physical rope, binding the spells and enchantments up beyond his reach.  

“I have left only the most basic magic for you, allowing you to maintain your Aesir form but little more. One day, perhaps, I will be able to trust you enough to unbind the rest.”

Loki just sat in the chair, unwilling to look his former father in the eyes. He supposed he could have thanked him for at least leaving his appearance, but he wouldn’t grant him even the smallest of victories. He sat there, completely silent, until Odin eventually walked away.

* * *

After Odin left, Loki was taken to the prison washroom and allowed to shower and change clothes before being escorted to his final stop, a large cell at the very end of the innermost corridor of the dungeons.

This one was free of bars; he would instead be contained by glass walls protected by a force field of ancient and powerful magic he would have no chance of breaking through. Invisible to the naked eye, the field would give him an unobstructed view of the rest of the prison – currently empty of any other prisoners. It was exactly the kind of thing to break him – utter and complete boredom with no end in sight.

Unlike the other cells, his did contain a fairly large bed, along with a chair and footstool, and a few small tables that held some flasks of water, some parchment and writing utensils, and several books. He picked up one of the books, sitting in the chair and nearly nodding off before a familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Loki?”

“Mother,” he said reflexively, turning to see Frigga standing outside the door of his cell. “I suppose I have you to thank for these arrangements?”

“You may be a prisoner, but you are still my son. I will not have you rotting away down here like some sort of forgotten artifact.”

“But is that not what I am?” he asked, rising from his seat. “An artifact that has outlived its usefulness?”

“You mustn’t think that way. You still have much to live for.” She turned away, motioning to someone behind her to come closer.

Thor stepped out of the shadows, sliding a rune-covered key into the lock to open the door. He stepped into the cell, his face serious. “Don’t even think about trying to run, brother. You will never make it past the door.”

“Don’t worry, Thor. I have nowhere to go.”

“We have brought someone else to see you, Loki,” said Frigga, following Thor into the cell. As she moved aside, Sigyn stepped forward from behind her, clutching what appeared to be a wriggling blanket to her chest.

Up close and in the light, she looked even lovelier than when he’d last seen her, walking away from him in the Allfather’s throne room what felt like a lifetime ago. Her body was softer around the edges than he remembered, a _mother’s_ body, and it pained him to know he had missed so much. He stood still and watched her approach, oddly unsure of what to say. She spoke first.

“I thought I was dreaming. But you’re real. You’re really here,” she said, her eyes swimming with barely suppressed tears.

“Yes. I’m really here.”

She smiled then, and the tears spilled out and down her cheeks. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Nor I you,” said Loki. He looked from her down to the blanket she held as it moved again. In that moment, he was certain he didn’t want to see what was beneath it. The room suddenly felt much too small and foreboding; he wanted them all to go and leave him to his misery.

But before he could stop her, Sigyn pulled the blanket down, revealing a tiny jotun baby boy, with a head full of black hair and skin the exact shade of his mother’s eyes. Loki couldn’t help but recoil in equal parts fear and wonder.

“His name is Ari,” said Sigyn, and the hopeful look in her eyes was almost more than Loki could stand.

“Ari,” he said, testing the name on his tongue. “For your father.”

“Yes.”

They stood that way for a moment, neither of them daring to come closer to the other, before Frigga spoke up.

“Would you like to hold him?”

He looked to his mother, eyes wide. “I – I can’t do that. I don’t know what to do.”

“None of us do the first time,” she said, gently taking Ari from Sigyn’s arms and moving toward him. “Hold your arms out like this.”

Loki did as she asked, and it felt as though he was moving underwater. Frigga placed Ari in his arms. “Just be sure to support his head, darling,” she said, adjusting the crook of his elbow beneath the baby’s neck.

Ari was at once light as a feather in Loki’s arms and heavy as a stone in his heart. He looked down on his son – for he was without a doubt _his_ son – and could see nothing past the jotun markings and blue of his skin, a terrible reminder of the monster he truly was beneath his false exterior.

It was as if Ari could sense his father’s apprehension, and he began to cry. On instinct, Loki grasped his tiny hand, hoping in some strange way to calm him; instead, he watched in dismay as Ari began to cry louder, his hand going icy cold around Loki’s finger, which appallingly began to turn blue itself.

He tried to summon up a spell, desperate to fix his hideous half-jotun child permanently – to rid him of the horror of his true nature – but with most of his magic bound, Loki could do nothing more than mumble ineffectual nonsense at him, watching in terror as the change in his own skin continued to travel up his arm. _How could anyone love a monster like this?_

Somehow, the infinitely small part of Loki that instinctually recognized Ari as his own won out over the larger part of him that wanted to throw him, long enough to look at Sigyn pleadingly, hoping she would take him back. Before she could get close enough, Thor stepped up.

“No, brother, you’re holding him too tightly. Here, like this,” he said, taking Ari from Loki’s hands and cradling him in his own. At once, Ari began to settle, looking up at Thor with what Loki could only describe as a look of pure adoration. _Of course Thor would usurp my own son from me._

Rage bubbled up inside of him. “Get out,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Look, he’s fine now. Here, try again-“

“I said _get out_.” Louder this time.

“What?”

“ _Get OUT!_ All of you!” Immediately, Ari began to cry once again. “And take that repulsive creature with you!”

He ran from the group, huddling in the far corner of his cell and hugging his arm to his chest until the blue faded. He turned back only once, just in time to see Sigyn looking at him with an unfathomable sadness, and Thor locking the cell door behind them as they retreated. He screamed as the doors at the far end of the corridor shut and locked behind them, sealing him inside like a wild animal in a cage.

His entire body shook as he stepped away from the corner. He had burned completely through his anger, and in the fire’s wake, he was left with nothing but the ashes of despair, sifting through his fingers like so much dust. He couldn’t even muster the energy to hate himself anymore. He lay on the bed – _thank you not-mother for sparing me the discomfort of sleeping on the floor_ – buried himself under the furs, out of sight of the guards he was sure were watching him, and  wept until his eyes burned, his sides ached, and sleep finally claimed him; a sleep filled with dreams of a tiny blue baby with his eyes.


	27. Chapter 27

It was five days before Loki saw anyone again – other than the guards who watched at a distance and kept him fed through a slot in the door. Five days of monotonous solitude.

He supposed it was better than being chained to a rock and tortured, but who knew what sort of punishment the Allfather would eventually settle on. And all for doing no more than what Thor had done countless times – assert his superiority over inferior beings. Was that not what Loki had been taught to see as strength in their culture? _Yes, **their** culture_ , he thought. _Not truly yours._

He had also been taught to see the people of Jotunheim – _his_ people – as monstrous. And to what end? What possible other outcome could have come to pass once he found out his true nature?

Raised to hate what he really was – and then to be presented with a child he’d had no knowledge of not even a full day after returning “home” in defeat? A child that had looked exactly like the monsters he’d feared as a young boy? It had been overwhelming.

But Sigyn…Sigyn had held Ari without fear or shame. The love she had radiated for her son – _their_ son – had been nearly palpable, almost frightening in its intensity. Was there any way she would look at him the same if he was able to show her his true form? He didn’t dare to hope.

When Ari touched him, he felt the enchantment he was generating to maintain his appearance – and he understood at last that it was something he was doing to himself – fade away. Given time, he knew he would be able to manipulate it without help from an outside source. And what did he have now, but unlimited time?

On his third day alone, as he was lying in bed in the evening, he concentrated all of his efforts into the little magic that remained to him. For the first time in his life, he could really _feel_ the tenuous links that kept his features as they were. Anyone watching would have thought him merely asleep, but his mind was as alert as it had ever been, weakening some areas and strengthening others – until he could feel the bed around him become warmer to his touch. He opened his eyes and raised his hand, saw the color changing to blue, the jotun markings coming to life…and panicked.

He concentrated once again, moving the bonds around in his mind, until he was back to the form he’d been raised with, the one he was most comfortable with – fearing he would never be able to change himself back if he let it go too far too soon. After spending his entire long life in one shape, it would take more practice before he felt comfortable shifting himself at will.

He just hoped it wouldn’t be in vain, that he hadn’t irreparably damaged his relationship with Sigyn to the point where she would never see him again anyway.

Midmorning on his fifth day back in Asgard, he received a visitor.

He had just been returned to his cell from the washroom, freshly showered and changed, when his mother arrived, bearing new books – and an offer.

“I thought you might appreciate some time out of this cell.”

He looked at her skeptically. “Permanently?”

“It will be some time before you earn your freedom, Loki. But there’s something you need to see, sooner rather than later.”

Two guards replaced the shackles on his hands, and then accompanied Loki and Frigga to her personal chambers, before taking station outside her doors.

“I’m sorry for the bonds,” she said, sadness in her voice. “It was the only way they would agree to free you, even temporarily.”

“ _Why_ did you bring me here?”

“Sit,” she said, pointing to two chairs in front of a large window overlooking her private gardens.

Grudgingly, he did as she asked, and she settled in next to him. “What am I watching?”

“Look closely.”

He leaned forward, just as a figure stepped into his line of sight – Sigyn, holding Ari. Loki’s breath caught in his throat.

As he watched, they made their way through the trees, following a butterfly as it flitted from flower to flower on the branches. At one point, the butterfly landed on Sigyn’s outstretched hand, and Ari smiled a toothless grin before it flew away once again.

“She brings him here whenever she can,” said Frigga. “In this garden, there are no restrictions on him. Ari can be exactly who he is with no fear. She says it’s when she’s happiest, when she’s here with him.”

Loki couldn’t argue with her; he could almost _feel_ Sigyn’s joy as she looked at their son, even through the glass and at a distance – their blue-skinned, jotun son, who looked up at Sigyn as though she hung the very stars in the sky.   

He swallowed thickly. _I knew she would be a wonderful mother._ He tore his gaze away for a moment, looking at Frigga. “Why are you showing me this?”

“So you can see for yourself how much she loves your son. Loki, Sigyn wants you to be a part of her life, of Ari’s life. She wants you to be a family.”

“Even now?”

“Even now. She still has faith in you – faith that at the very least, you can be a good father to Ari.”

_Well, that makes exactly one of us who feels that way._

“Don’t make that face, Loki. I will concede that it might take some time, but your son needs you. And I believe you need him…and his mother.”

He turned back to the window. “Does she know I’m watching?”

“No. _This_ …this is how she behaves with no outside influence. She loves your son completely and unconditionally. One day, maybe you will as well.”

Loki continued to look on in silent intensity, losing himself in the process. He didn’t know how much time passed before Ari started to get restless, prompting Sigyn to sit with him to feed him. He watched in fascination as she nursed Ari, and though he couldn’t hear her, he could tell she was singing to him, stroking his face as she did. At one time, Loki would have said he knew Sigyn’s body better than anyone – probably better than even Sigyn herself – but after so long apart, watching her nurse their child struck him as terribly intimate, and he had to look away.

“This is all rather manipulative of you, mother.”

“I’m merely trying to guide you, to try to help you find the path back home.”

“I have no home. Not anymore.”

“You mustn’t say that. You will _always_ have a home here. And a family.”

Before Loki could respond, the guards returned back to the room, insisting that the prisoner had been gone from his cell too long.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” said Frigga. “I’m sorrier than I could ever express for whatever part I played in getting you to this point. But please know, your happiness means more to me than even my own. I will do whatever I need to see a smile on your face again.”

“Thank you, mother,” he said, before the guards led him away. _For everything._

* * *

He wrote Sigyn a note as soon as he was back in his cell.

_I need to see you. Alone this time._

When she didn’t come right away, he wrote again and again, variations of the same message, day after day until he had exhausted his supply of parchment.

Days passed, until it had been nearly two weeks since he’d last sent Sigyn a note, with nearly a month of persistent silence from her. He was beginning to fear that the notes had never been delivered at all, and that the silence would continue for eternity. He thought it was just as well; it was probably no more than he deserved.

He was sitting on his bed, trying to decide whether he wanted to lie down or read one of his books for the hundredth time, when he heard footfalls in the corridor. He didn’t even bother to turn to them.

“It’s a bit early for my evening rations, isn’t it?”

Unexpectedly, it was a gentle, female voice that answered. “I wasn’t told to bring anything.”

He stood quickly, incredulous. “Sigyn?” She was standing just outside his cell, wringing her hands. She looked exhausted.

“I’m sorry. I would have come sooner, but I needed…I needed time.”

“Our last meeting didn’t go as well as one would have hoped.”

“No, it didn’t. You called our son a ‘repulsive creature’. Now, unless that’s some sort of Midgardian term of endearment of which I am unaware, I don’t think you meant it kindly.”

“Not my finest moment, assuredly.” He stepped closer, slowly, as one would approach a skittish animal to prevent them bolting. “You must hate me.”

She gave a short laugh, but her eyes were empty of humor. “Hating you would make things so much easier, wouldn’t it? For both of us?”

He put his palm on the glass, and the hidden runes lit up beneath his false skin. She stepped forward, mirroring his action, placing her hand over his with the glass between. He could almost imagine her warmth.

“I’m angry with you, Loki, but anger is not the same as hate. I’ve _never_ stopped loving you, not for one breath. You know, I think I’ve loved you since the day we met. I won’t fool myself into believing you even remember it.”

He furrowed his brow. “You think I don’t remember?” He lowered his hand and stepped back from the glass, really taking her in. “You were outside my mother’s chambers, looking at the tapestries that hang there. When I spoke to you, you looked me in the eye without fear and you spoke back with confidence. As I was leaving, I called you Sigrid, and you corrected me without hesitation. How could I _ever_ forget?”

She smiled, a true smile this time, even if it was laced with sadness. “I just _knew_ I had ruined any chance of being in your good graces.”

“That boldness about you…it’s probably what put you in my good graces to start with. Before I knew it, I found myself in my mother’s chambers almost every day, on the pretense of visiting _her_ …but really, to see you.”

She tilted her head at his admission. “I had no idea. I thought you just really enjoyed spending time with your mother.”

“I did, but I didn’t fool her, not a bit. She knew what I was about.” He sat on the footstool behind him. “She encouraged me, you know. Told me she approved of my courting you. And now, I can’t help but wonder why.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, _why_? Why encourage me? Why lead me to think I could have a future with you, when she knew the truth?”

“I asked her that same question, you know. The day I found out I was expecting, your father-“

“ _Not_ my father.”

She sighed. “ _Odin_ …he told me the truth of your lineage. Told me the child I carried was not what I thought it was.” She started to tell him how Odin had strongly suggested she terminate the pregnancy, for _her_ safety, but thought better of it. That was something they could discuss another time, when Loki’s mental wounds weren’t quite so fresh. “After, I asked your mother why she permitted our relationship at all, knowing the truth herself.”

“And what did she say?”

“She said it was because I made you happy. That when the time came and the facts were revealed, she thought our love would be enough to sustain us. I told her it was a shame you didn’t feel the same way.”

He just stared at her, unable to respond.

“Loki, what _really_ happened in the Observatory that night?”

“What were you told?”

“That the explosion was caused by a spell gone wrong. That Thor and Odin were unable to save you in the aftermath.”

Loki lowered his head and stared at the floor for a beat before looking back up and into Sigyn’s eyes. “They saved me. But I couldn’t save myself. Everything I’d ever wanted – approval, respect, admiration, love – it all seemed so far from me, so unattainable in that moment. I gave up…and I let go.”

She looked away, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I knew they were keeping something from me. Tell me,” she said, meeting his gaze once again, “if we had known I was pregnant sooner, would things have been different?”

“I honestly don’t know. Maybe. But we didn’t, and now we’re here.”

She stepped closer to the glass, crouching down to look him in the eye. “What happened to you? Before Midgard?”

He put his head in his hands and remained quiet for so long she was certain he wasn’t going to answer. When he raised his head again, his eyes were wet with tears. He looked at her, but through her, his gaze distant and haunted. “Terrible things, Sigyn. Violation. Pain. Suffering. I had no other option, but to do the things I did. My survival – _your_ survival – depended on it. And I failed.”

“But you survived. How is that failure?”

“Those creatures, they will find me again, and you by extension. You and everyone in Asgard are at risk because of me.”   

“When – _if_ that time comes, we will face it together –“

“You don’t understand! They have _no_ mercy. And you – you don’t deserve to suffer for a monster like me.”

“You are _not_ a monster, Loki –“

“Oh, but I am. Watch.”

He raised himself up from the stool, standing perfectly still and closing his eyes. As Sigyn watched, she could see the pale skin of his arms, neck and face begin to transform into the dark blue of a jotun, the normally hidden markings that belied his true form becoming visible. When he opened his eyes again, they were no longer the green with which she was so familiar, but a vivid shade of red. 

He came closer again, putting his fist on the glass. “Look at me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you love me as I _truly_ am.”

They stood that way for a time, the chasm between them immense and unforgiving, before she lowered her eyes and stepped away.

 _I knew it_ , he thought. _You can love our child, but you can never love me, not the **true** me_. He was just about to yell for her, to scream for her to never bother coming back, when he heard her voice again – this time by the cell door.

He turned to see her arguing with the guard. “I said, let me in with him.”

“My lady, _look_ at him. He’ll kill you.”

“He will do no such thing. Now open this door, or the _next_ person you will be dealing with is the queen herself.”

The guard hesitated. “How do I know you’re not giving him a weapon of some sort?”

Sigyn held her arms out to the side, spinning in place. “Search me if you must, but if that door’s not open in the next minute, I will not only get the queen, but Prince Thor as well.”

The guard sighed, not making any move to touch her – likely put off by the look Loki was giving him, one that spoke volumes about exactly what he would do to the man if he even _thought_ of putting his hands near her. “I’ll not be held responsible for what happens –“

“Nothing is going to happen,” said Sigyn. “Now let me in. Lock it behind me if you’re afraid.”

The guard slid his key into the lock, opening the door just enough for Sigyn to step in before bolting it again once she was inside. Loki was so nonplussed by the whole exchange, he realized too late that he hadn’t reverted to his Aesir form. He stepped back as she moved closer.

“Stop running from me,” she said, her voice firm.

She came closer, close enough to touch him, and he winced, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch as she took him in.

“You don’t frighten me, Loki,” she said, and he felt her hand on his cheek, the heat in her skin nearly hot enough to burn. “I have looked upon a face exactly like this every day for nearly five months now, a face I’ve loved since I first laid eyes on it. A face that wouldn’t exist without _you_. I _love_ you, now and for eternity.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her, and she stared back, not even flinching. “Your hair,” she said, running her fingers through it. “It’s so long.”

He reached up, covering her hand with his. _I stand before you like this, and all you can see is my **hair**?_ He’d been so long without a gentle touch or softly spoken word, it very nearly made his knees weak. He wanted to embrace her, to kiss her, but he was still too fragile, too fearful of rejection to even try.

It was as if she could feel his anxiety, and in response, she leaned up just enough to fleetingly touch her lips to his – it was the barest of kisses, hardly more than the tiniest press of warm flesh to cold, but it was enough to ignite a spark of hope inside him. Hope that he could come back from the brink, that the void hadn’t claimed him forever. _I love you, Sigyn_ , he thought, still unable to speak the words. _Don’t give up on me._

She leaned back. “I have to go. I’ll come back when I can, if you’d like.”

“Yes, I would like that.”

She smiled up at him once more, before turning to leave.

“Wait,” he said, before she got too far. “Give me your hand.”

With what little magic he had left to him freed from maintaining his appearance, he placed his hand over hers, saying the necessary words to eliminate the enchantment keeping her wedding ring on her finger. “I know you haven’t been able to remove it. Now you can.”

She pulled her hand back and pushed the ring halfway up her finger, before she stopped. “Look,” she said, holding her hand out to him. “Your name, it’s in my skin.” She pointed to where the engraving of his name on the inside of the ring had left its mark. “I’d like to keep it on,” she continued, pushing the ring back down, “And maybe one day, if you’ll still have me, you can wear yours as well.”

She walked away before he could answer, the guard letting her out of the cell with a wary look. Loki watched her as she left, his heart lighter than it had been in ages.

* * *

It had been enormously difficult for Sigyn to answer Loki’s incessant requests for a visit. She was devastated by his rejection of Ari upon their first meeting, to the point that she had accepted the fact that Loki – even miraculously returned from the dead – would never be a part of their lives. She didn’t know what had finally prompted him to reach out to her, but she was happy he had, even if she’d still needed time to prepare herself to go back to him.

Of course, when she _did_ go to him he’d tried to push her away yet again, swearing she couldn’t possibly love him for what he really was. She’d done her best to comfort him – to convince him that her feelings for him were no different than they’d been before Thor’s disastrous coronation – and it seemed she had actually been successful in her attempts. And for a time, she allowed herself to be hopeful for their future.

She visited him nearly every day, for short stays at first, but then for longer and longer periods of time. She began to bring her studies with her most days, delighting in discussing the other realms with him. He had many stories of his own to share, almost all of them involving adventures with his brother, and she loved to hear him tell them – to watch him as he spoke of happier times, the confines of his cell momentarily forgotten as he reminisced.

Sometimes she was accompanied by Frigga or Thor – and on the rare occasion, she even brought Ari with her. She never again took him into Loki’s cell, but would instead sit as closely to the glass as possible, Loki just on the other side and right in Ari’s line of sight.

Loki – having become more proficient at changing his appearance at will – would always wear his jotun skin when Ari was with her. He told Sigyn it was so Ari would be comfortable around him, but she knew it had more to do with Loki becoming comfortable with himself than anything. Whatever the reason, Sigyn would never forget the first time Ari smiled at his father – she hadn’t seen Loki so happy since the first days of their relationship.

But as she would soon realize, belatedly and to her continued regret, nothing with Loki ever remained easy for long.

As the months passed, she began to bring Ari less frequently, until she eventually stopped bringing him at all. After the third week of Sigyn coming to visit him alone, Loki asked after him, wondering when he would see his son again.

“Right now, he’s still too small to remember any of this, but he won’t be for much longer. He’s nearly a year old. I don’t want his earliest memories of you to be unpleasant. Memories of you locked up in a cell or shackled.”

“He’ll be grown before I see the outside of this cell again.”

“Maybe not. Opportunities are presenting themselves that may hasten the process.”    

“Opportunities? Like what?”

“With the return of the Tessaract, the repairs to the Bifröst have been completed ahead of schedule. Thor is planning a trip to Midgard within the next few weeks, as a sign of goodwill from our realm…and he has asked me to accompany him.”

“What?! No – you can’t do that,” said Loki, jumping from his seat in such a rush he didn’t even notice as his book clattered to the floor.

“This is what I’ve been studying for! Maybe, with my influence, I can help them understand why you did the things you did. Help them see that you’re capable of good, that you can make reparations. I can’t learn everything from a book – the only way I’ll get a full education is to actually _visit_ the other realms –“

“But Midgard? If you’re in such a hurry to die, why not go to Jotunheim instead?”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I’ll be in no danger with Thor –“

“Thor?!” said Loki, his voice rising with every word. “As soon as those Midgardians figure out who you are, and your relationship to me, not even Thor would be able to protect you. No, Sigyn. I forbid it.”

“You _cannot_ forbid it, Loki. I’m going with or without your approval.”

He picked his book up from the floor, flinging it across the room in a rage. She didn’t even move, just waited patiently for him to calm down.

“If something happens to you, I won’t survive it,” he said, pacing around his cell and running his hands through his hair. “You would leave our son an orphan.”

“I didn’t think you would be happy with this, but I had hoped you wouldn’t be so selfish. How foolish of me.”

“You _are_ a fool,” he said, his anger getting the best of him. “You have been from the very beginning, getting involved with me.”

“Perhaps I am. But I think we’re far beyond turning back now.”

He spun away from her, picked up another book, and threw it to join the first one.

“Are you quite finished? Throwing your books won’t change my mind, Loki. When I come back –“

“ _If_ you come back.”

“Is this how you wish for me to leave you – angry and sulking?”

“Can’t you understand? I don’t want you to leave me at all!” he cried, slapping his hand on the glass to emphasize his point.

“I didn’t want _you_ to leave _me_ , and yet you did. And I survived. And even though I didn’t think it possible, you returned to me. Just as I will return to you.”

His hand slid down from where he had placed it, his skin squeaking on the surface. “Then go,” he said, turning and flopping onto the bed.

“Will you not wish me safe travels?”

He shifted his body until he was completely facing away from her, making no move to acknowledge her continued presence before she finally gave up and walked away.

* * *

“How did it go?” asked Thor, when he saw her at dinner that evening. “Did he take the news well?”

“Everything’s perfect,” she said, without the slightest hint of irony. “I’m looking forward to meeting your friends.”

 


	28. Chapter 28

It took Loki approximately fifty-three steps to traverse the perimeter of his cell, ticking them off in his head as he walked. Sometimes a few more, occasionally a few less, depending on how many books he left lying around on the floor, but always roughly the same. It helped to calm his mind in the interminable monotony of his captivity.

It had been eight days since he’d last seen Sigyn, though he knew she had not yet left for Midgard. He feigned disinterest when the guards talked, expert as he was at affecting a look of pure apathy, but he never failed to listen intently as he paced. From their discussions he was able to glean that she and Thor – along with a small party of additional, more senior delegates – would be departing two days hence.  

He had no intention of sending for her before she left, fearing it would only make things worse between them. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he called for her, only to have their final interaction be even more unpleasant than the last had been; he also knew there was nothing he could say to her to change her mind about leaving anyway. He would worry until she returned, safe and unharmed, but for once he would need to put his trust in his brother to protect her.

He had just come round to the back of his cell once more when he looked up to find a visitor – one he hadn’t seen once since his return.

“Well, this is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Edmund stood proudly on the other side of the glass, the clenched fists at his side the only hint of the emotions he was trying desperately to keep in check. “I wouldn’t be here unless I felt it absolutely necessary.”

Loki was well aware that he’d never been Edmund’s favorite person – beginning with embarrassing him in the palace gardens the night of the queen’s birthday, a transgression he was sure Edmund would never fully forgive – but his status as prince had always served to keep the young guard respectful. This open hostility was something new. He couldn’t say that he blamed him, really, but it was still an affront to his pride. “Has something happened to Sigyn?”

“Not yet. I had hoped my sister would learn some sense and stay away from you. But her sense of duty to your progeny is clouding her judgment.”

Sigyn had mentioned Edmund’s reluctance to embrace Ari into the family, but it still surprised Loki to see the extent of his antagonism. “My ‘progeny’ has a name you know. Ari. Your nephew by blood, whether you accept him or not.”

“That’s funny – I believe you and I shared a similar opinion on him when you first met him. That his natural state is one to keep hidden. It seems only one of us has changed his mind in that regard.”

Loki stalked to the front of his cell, transforming into his jotun form and back again in warning before Edmund could say another word. It pleased him to see Edmund take a step back in fright, even with the glass between them. “Choose your next words carefully, Arason. I am not _completely_ powerless, even locked up.”

“You hold my sister under your spell, as a master would a thrall.”

“Sigyn is no one’s _thrall_. She has always maintained her autonomy with me – which is more than I can say for her time spent with you or your mother.”

“I cannot speak for my mother, but I have only ever wanted what’s best for her. You only think of yourself.”

“She makes her own choices. If she chooses to remain with me – whatever her reasons – then that is for you to accept and not disparage.”

Loki could see the muscles in Edmund’s jaw tighten as he ground his teeth in anger. “She had an offer of marriage, you know. In your absence.” At Loki’s shocked look, the younger man actually had the audacity to smile. “Oh, did she not tell you?”

Loki clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms, but remained silent.

“Your brother would know all about it – as it was _him_ who made it.”

Rage flared up in the pit of Loki’s stomach; only the confines of his cell kept Edmund safe from his wrath. “How _dare_ you –“

“It’s true – ask him about it yourself. It was Thor who was by her side during her pregnancy, not you. Thor who offered to care for her and your child. Thor – who would make her a _queen_. What can _you_ offer her now, but even more grief?”

With considerable effort, Loki closed his eyes and swallowed down his anger; there was no need to prove the insufferable dolt right. “Why are you telling me this?”

“They are to leave for Midgard in two days. You know her ties to you put her in danger; free her permanently, and perhaps she’ll be safer. Maybe, given time, she will even allow the Allfather to alter Ari’s appearance for good. Make him a true Aesir.”

_My son will **never** be a true Aesir, not as long as I draw breath._ “And what does Sigyn want?”

“She thinks she knows, but you are a distraction. Release her, and she will come to the right decision.”

_Why not just ask me to tear my heart from my body instead?_ “You make it sound so simple.”

“If you love her as much as you claim to, then it will be the simplest choice you’ve ever made.”

With nothing more to say, Edmund turned on his heels and left, still carrying his head high. If Loki had had the power to conjure something to trip him up and wipe the smug smile off his face, he would have; instead, he was forced to watch helplessly as he left, all the fight in him gone.

Loki needed no time to decide how to handle this new information; Edmund was right – in the end, it _was_ the simplest choice he’d ever made. He grabbed his parchment and scrawled out two short missives, banging on the door of his cell until a guard came to retrieve them.

* * *

Sigyn read the note in her hands three times before setting it aside, looking for some sort of hidden meaning in its message. In Loki’s typical fashion, he wasted no words.

_I must see you before you leave._

She had not been back to Loki’s cell since informing him of her imminent departure – not out of spite, but because her days had been consumed with planning. Reading and studying up on Midgard had been foremost – but she had also needed to prepare Ari for her absence. She had never spent more than a few hours apart from him since his birth, and as ready as she believed she was, the thought of leaving him behind was much more difficult than she had expected the closer she came to their actual separation.

She had half a mind to refuse Loki’s appeal for an audience with her, to let him stew until she returned, but – though she knew he would never have extended her the same courtesy – she couldn’t bear to leave without seeing him once more.

When she arrived at in the dungeons, she was surprised to find Thor already there, having a heated discussion with Loki through the glass of his cell.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can come back later if I’m interrupting.”

They turned to her as one. “It’s no interruption,” said Thor, exchanging an odd look with his brother before Loki spoke up.

“Come here Sigyn.”

He had been nervously twisting what appeared to be a thin length of rope in his hands when she walked in – as she came nearer, he put it in his pocket and walked to his cell door.

Thor met him there, sliding a key into the lock and opening the door just enough for someone to slip through. Sigyn looked at him curiously.

He said nothing, merely nodding to indicate that she should enter the cell. She could see Loki standing on the other side, watching her anxiously to see if she would come in, or turn around and flee. She stepped forward.

Loki took her outstretched hand, pulling her into the cell with him, yet keeping her at arm’s length.

“What’s all this?” she asked.

“Sigyn, the day of Thor’s coronation, you and I were to leave together that evening. Do you remember?”

“Yes, of course I remember.” _The beginning of the end. Before things went so terribly wrong._

“I never told you where we were going. What I had planned for us. And then, well…everything…” He trailed off, not needing to finish the thought for her to know what he was thinking.

“The truth is…” He looked down at their clasped hands, rubbing his thumbs back and forth over her fingers. “The truth is I had made arrangements with a magistrate for us to be married.”

Sigyn looked up at him in astonishment. “Really?”

“The rings, that’s why I had them; I intended to make you my wife, that very day. Had we been able to leave as planned, would you have consented?”

“You know I would have, and happily.”

“And now? Would you be willing to marry me, in truth this time…right now?”

“Right now?” she asked, not entirely sure she heard him correctly. “Is this some sort of trick to keep me from leaving?”

She heard Thor mutter under his breath behind her – something that sounded an awful lot like _I told you she would never agree to this_ – but before she could turn to him Loki was speaking again.

“It’s no trick, Sigyn. I cannot force you to stay, but I cannot allow you to leave in good conscience without asking. If we made our vows right now, with Thor as our witness – would you be willing to do that?”

She squeezed his hand in response, trying to remind herself that he was still there, still real. “Well, it’s not the romantic wedding I dreamed of as a young girl,” she said, looking around the cell. _A little notice and I would at least have worn my best dress._ “But yes, Loki. As a sign of my loyalty and love for you, I will willingly do that.”

He allowed himself a small smile and a deep breath, and she was stunned to realize that he’d actually been worried. “Did you think I’d say no?” she asked.

“Thor thought you would. And I admit, I feared it was a possibility,” he said. “We didn’t exactly part on amicable terms the last time you came to see me.”

“Perhaps I should have made you wait for an answer as punishment.”

His eyes widened. “That would have been too cruel.”

“Yes,” she said. “But I’m not you.”

He managed to look simultaneously annoyed and chastised. “Give me this, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“Yes. Yes you will.”

He touched the ring on her finger. “May I remove this? I would prefer to place it on your finger myself.”

“Of course.”

He slid it off gently. “Forgive me. I don’t have a ring for me –“

“I actually have it,” she said, reaching into a small pocket on the side of her dress and pulling out a small pouch. She poured the contents into her palm. “I always carry these things with me, reminders of those whom I love most in the world.” She took inventory of the items as she put them away. “A small buckle from my father’s armor, a hairpin of my mother’s, a lock of Ari’s hair, and your ring.” This last she kept out. “I’m happy to give this to you instead.”

“I guess sentimentality does occasionally have its place.” He turned to Thor, signaling he was ready to begin.

Thor looked at Sigyn. “Sigyn, I must ask, as a matter of ritual – do you willingly consent to this marriage?”

“Yes…but wait,” said Sigyn, turning back to her intended. “Loki, I _do_ willingly consent, but I want no one to say I went into this unaware. Will you marry me as you really are? In your true form?”

He looked at her for a beat, his brow furrowed. “Are you certain?”

“More certain than I’ve ever been in my life. Please?”

He nodded, transforming himself before she could draw another breath.

“And you,” she said, stroking her fingers down Loki’s now-cold cheek. “Do _you_ willingly consent to this marriage?”

“Completely and unconditionally. As I should have long ago.” For a moment, his eyes held an unbearable amount of sorrow, but with a blink, it was gone.

He held her head softly in his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Sigyn, I pledge myself to you, to cherish and defend you – my wife, my partner, my one true love. This is my solemn vow.” He took her ring and slid it back onto her finger.

She smiled up at him. “Loki, I pledge myself to you, to comfort and support you – my husband, my partner, my one true love. This is my solemn vow.” She could feel the heat of a tear on her cheek as she slid his ring onto his finger, an action she once thought was forever beyond her reach.

“I hope this isn’t a tear of regret,” he said, his hand cool as he gently wiped it away.

“It’s not. Don’t let it become one.”

“I don’t have the traditional cloth for the hand binding,” he said. “But I do have this.”

He reached into his pocket to retrieve the rope he had been holding when she arrived – and Sigyn quickly recognized that it wasn’t a rope at all, but a braided length of hair. _Her_ hair – the hair she had given him just before he had left for Jotunheim the day of Thor’s coronation.

“You kept it?”

“This was the only thing I had left of you. I kept it hidden, knowing no one could take it from me. And now,” he said, wrapping the braid around their clasped hands, “no one can you take _you_ from me.”

“I believe this is where you seal your vows with a kiss,” said Thor. Sigyn had completely forgotten he was still there.

Never taking his eyes from hers, Loki slid his free arm around Sigyn’s waist and pulled her close, their bound hands clasped between their chests. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, the coldness of his jotun skin in marked contrast to the heat of the passion between them. She’d had no opportunity to kiss him properly since his return, and she could feel her knees weaken and her breath go shallow with a sudden rush of desire. Only the loud clearing of a throat behind her managed to break through the haze and remind her of where they were.

“If you don’t mind,” said Thor, “I would appreciate if you wouldn’t consummate the marriage just yet. Not in a prison cell, and _not_ with me as witness.”

The look in Loki’s eyes as he pulled back from her spoke clearly of his feelings – that neither a prison cell nor Thor would be much of a deterrent to him – but Sigyn spoke up before he could manage to get his hands in her dress. “He’s right. When we are finally able to be together once more, it will be all the better for the anticipation.”

“It will be all the _briefer_ for the anticipation.”

“But by then, you will be free, and we will have the rest of our lives to grow tired of one another.”

“I will never tire of having you, Sigyn.” With a smile, he kissed her forehead and then escorted her back to the cell door, slipping the braid from their hands and making it vanish once again with a roll of his fingers. “Thor, I am tasking you with the protection of my wife and mother of my children. Bring her back to me safely and in one piece so that we may eventually enjoy a proper wedding night, or I will end you, slowly and painfully. Even Valhalla itself will be no safe haven for you.”

“She is my sister now, Loki. I vow to protect her with my life.”

Sigyn started to step through the cell door before turning back to her husband. “Loki, you called me the ‘mother of your _children_ ’. We only have one.”

“I know what I said.”

“You haven’t… _done_ something to me have you? Using your magic? Ari’s still so small –“

He laughed, shaking his head, the blue of his skin fading back to his Aesir form. “Ah, no. When the time comes, any future children with whom the fates see fit to bless us will be conceived by old-fashioned means, with your full awareness and consent…and I promise you, we will enjoy every moment of the process.”

“But not today,” said Thor, tapping her on the shoulder.

She kissed Loki once more before stepping through the threshold of the doorway, holding onto his hand for as long as possible before the shutting door sealed them from one another.

“Sigyn, I love you,” he said, putting his hand on the door. “And remember brother,” he continued, looking at Thor with a raw intensity. “I’m counting on you to return her to me unharmed.”

“She is in good hands, Loki.” He looked down at Sigyn. “I’m sorry to cut your celebration short, but we must go.”

She allowed him to usher her away, but not before she looked back once more to see Loki standing at the front of his cell, the most forlorn newlywed she had ever seen.

* * *

As difficult as it was, Sigyn chose to leave Ari at the palace with her mother and Dalla when they left. She feared that if they accompanied her to the Observatory, it would be too distressing to see him as she was leaving, and that she might change her mind in the last minute. Better to leave him in their rooms, as though she would only be gone for a few hours instead of a few days.

She knew he would be in good hands while she was gone, but it still pained her that Loki couldn’t watch after him during her absence; perhaps this trip would be the first step in earning him a reprieve, so he could be free of his cell once and for all, and they could finally be a family.

They would arrive on Midgard in a remote location called Alaska, part of an area the Midgardians called The United States of America. After recent events, New Mexico and New York – also part of that area – were deemed too conspicuous to continue using discreetly, and so the new location had been selected.

While on Midgard, Thor would spend the majority of his time with his new comrades, gathering information on potential threats that might be beneficial for both of their realms. Sigyn, on the other hand, would attend numerous meetings with the two senior Asgardian ambassadors who would be traveling with them: her tutor, Radi Bjornson and his colleague, Sandarr Sperlason. 

Though she had at first resisted, Thor had finally convinced her that they would need to keep her relationship to Loki a secret on Midgard, at least for the time being. “The Midgardians are a resilient people, Sigyn,” he had said. “But Loki’s offenses are still very recent in their minds. It’s really the best way to keep you safe – _and_ them. If something happens to you there at their hands, I fear those crimes would seem mere child’s play to the destruction he is _truly_ capable of.”

Everything was in place at the Observatory when they arrived. “Here, hold onto me,” said Thor, holding out his arms. “It may make the landing a bit easier.”

She slid her arms around him just as she heard Heimdall’s sword slide into place, activating the power of the Bifröst. The Observatory began to spin around them, and Sigyn could feel the pull in her center, like a rope attached to her spine, propelling her forward with a force unlike anything she had ever experienced. She opened her mouth to speak, to make sure Thor didn’t let her go, but her words were forced back as the wind of the void swallowed them up.

It was the strangest sensation, not exactly falling and yet not exactly flying – just an overwhelming rush of movement. She buried her face into Thor’s chest, his arm firmly around her waist, and before she even had a chance to ponder on the wonder and absurdity of it all, it was over. 

They had landed in a small clearing amongst what appeared to be a copse of spruce trees. Thor bore the majority of the force of the impact, but it was still jarring enough that Sigyn had to step away from him on shaky legs, barely making it behind the nearest tree before promptly vomiting what little she had eaten that morning. She could feel Thor at her side as she pulled a cloth from her dress and dabbed at her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

He gave her a moment to recover before offering her a flask of water. “Don’t worry about it, Sigyn. Everyone gets a bit overwhelmed the first time. If it makes you feel any better, I think you handled it better than Loki did after _his_ first journey between realms.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Gingerly, she walked back to the others, who were busy gathering their belongings. “I thought someone was meeting us. Have we not arrived in the correct place?”

Thor looked around. “No, we’re in the right place, I’m certain of it. Our escort must have been delayed.”

No sooner had he said the words than they could hear movement in the surrounding trees. Thor called out. “Stark? Is that you? You’re late!”

Sigyn turned to the trees just as three men stepped out from the shadows. They were dressed in strange clothing, a mixture of patterns meant to simulate the surrounding foliage and vests an orange color so bright it nearly hurt her eyes to look at it. They were all carrying what appeared to be weapons of some sort – rifles or shotguns if she remembered her studies correctly – and as she looked on in horror, the one closest to her raised his and pointed it directly at her.

“Who the hell is Stark? And who the hell are _you_?”

 


	29. Chapter 29

Sigyn stared at the hunter’s weapon, the black hole at the end of the barrel darker and less caring than the void through which she had just traveled. Not even five minutes on Midgard, and she was going to die. Not only was she was going to die, but Loki would move the heavens and all nine realms from his prison cell to tear asunder the gates of Valhalla to find her – not to bring her back, but to tell her what a monumentally idiotic decision she had made.

She opened her mouth to speak, to beg for her life if she had to, but before she could get a word out, the gun was ripped from the hunter’s grasp by Mjölnir, which was already flying back through the air and into Thor’s waiting hand.

“We mean you no harm Midgardians, but threaten one of us again, and that will change.”

Sigyn’s legs went shaky with relief, but with difficulty she managed to remain upright, noting with a panicked amusement the look of recognition on the hunter’s face as his attention turned to Thor.

One of the man’s companions pulled a rectangular item from his pocket, a communications device along the lines of one Thor had described to her from his most recent trip to Midgard. “Oh my god, you’re that alien! From New York! Holy shit, no one’s gonna believe this –“ He touched the front of the device, and a bright light flashed from it.

“I would ask that you temper your language. There is a lady present,” said Thor, stepping between him and Sigyn to stare down at him. “I assume Stark did not send you as a part of our welcoming party?”

“Stark? You mean Tony Stark?” asked the first man, his mouth puckering in a pout of confusion. “Ah, fuck no,” he said, before glancing at Sigyn sheepishly. “Sorry, ma’am. I don’t know anything about a welcoming pa – “

The rest of his words were drowned out by a mechanical whine from above. The wind picked up, whipping Sigyn’s hair and dress around violently; it was much colder than she’d expected, and she cursed herself for not thinking to bring a heavier shawl. She looked up to see a small airship above the clearing, a disembodied male voice emanating from it.

_“Looking for me?”_

The ship descended rapidly, a hatch on the rear of it opening as Sigyn watched. Before it had even fully landed, she could see a dark-haired Midgardian man walking down the ramp, a wide grin on his face.  

“Sorry for the delay, big guy,” he said, once the airship had powered down enough for them to talk without yelling. “Better late than never, right?”

More flashes of light from the group of hunters caught the new man’s attention.

“Now those don’t look like the latest generation Stark phones. Tell you what, you give those to us, and my associate here,” he nodded to another man making his way down the ramp, “he’ll get you all set up with the newest we’ve got. They won’t even be on the market for another month.” He didn’t wait for a reply before he turned back to Thor.

“You might want to re-calibrate your rainbow wormhole – your coordinates were a bit off. Good thing your arrival lit up half the sky, or we may have had an intergalactic war on our hands thanks to a few overzealous hunters.”

“I had it under control,” said Thor, the leather of Mjölnir’s shaft creaking under his tightening grip.

“Yeah, sure you did. So, who’d you bring with you this time? No megalomaniacal would-be despots, I hope.”

Thor eyed him sternly before turning to the rest of their party. “Anthony Stark, may I introduce two of our most senior Asgardian ambassadors, Radi Bjornson and Sandarr Sperlason. Ambassadors, Anthony Stark of Midgard.”

The men all shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with one another before Stark turned his eye to Sigyn.

“You’ve been holding out on me Odinson. I was beginning to think you Asgardians only came in one style – large, strong, angry, and _male_.”

Thor watched him carefully, his jaw set in a hard line and every muscle tensed. “Stark, this is Lady Sigyn Aradottir. She is training to become a diplomat under Ambassador Bjornson. Sigyn, this is Anthony Stark.”

He took Sigyn’s outstretched hand, pressing it to his lips in a chaste kiss in lieu of a handshake.

“She is married,” said Thor, his voice carrying the sharpness of a newly honed blade.

“Ah, so she is,” said Stark, throwing a cursory glance to the ring on her hand. “That’s a shame.”

“Mr. Stark, it is an honor to meet you,” said Sigyn, smoothing down her hair and trying to remain as impassive as possible. “I am quite anxious to learn more about your realm.”

He studied her for a moment, the curiosity in his eyes nearly palpable – not unlike her husband’s. Despite her repeated attempts to get him to talk about it, Loki had not been very open about his time spent on Midgard, but from what she could gather his interactions with Stark in particular had been quite… _challenging_. “Happy to hear it,” he said finally. “Let’s get out of here before we attract any more devotees.”

Their party followed Stark up the ramp and into the airship, their belongings having already been gathered and stowed away. They were directed to a row of seats along the edge of the interior.

Stark looked at Sigyn as she secured herself into her seat. “Had to fix the buckle on that one. This guy ripped it out last time he was here,” he said, nodding at Thor. “Pulled his little brother out of there like those straps were made of paper, and then jumped right out the back without so much as a thank you or a parachute. Do you know him? Loki, I mean.”

Her first test, one Sigyn hoped she wouldn’t fail. “We’ve met.” Certainly not a lie, but a much safer answer than the entire truth.

“You know, I couldn’t help but have a little admiration for that son of a bitch – mean as hell, but he did have a certain charisma.” He turned to Thor. “What’d you do with him when you got him home?”

“Loki is in prison, for the time being.”

“For the time being? That sounds less _permanent_ than I’d like. Should we be worried?”

“Loki is not currently a threat to your realm.”

Sigyn found it exceedingly difficult to refrain from joining in and defending her husband, but she remained quiet. If she started talking now, she wasn’t sure she could keep her composure enough to be taken seriously.

She trusted that Loki had been truthful to her about his time spent in the void, and what had moved him to invade New York, but these people didn’t care. When Loki came to Midgard, he brought destruction, mayhem, and death along with him. Countless humans had lost their lives, and it was going to take a lot more than a simple explanation of Loki’s admittedly suspicious motivations to earn their forgiveness. It was a task Sigyn feared would prove insurmountable.

“Ah, Barton,” said Thor, looking past Stark. “I trust you are doing well.”

Sigyn followed Thor’s gaze to see another man sitting across from them, watching them carefully. Where Stark was full of charm and curiosity, this man was simply _intense_. He looked at each of them in turn, stopping slightly longer on Sigyn before turning to Thor.

“Been worse,” he said with a noncommittal shrug.

Stark introduced the man – Clint Barton, one of the humans Loki had forced into helping him – to the rest of their group. “Don’t worry, we checked them over – no mind-control spears that we could find.”

“Good to hear.”

He said nothing else, returning to his observation in stony silence as the hatch closed and the airship started to rise.

The trip to their final destination was uneventful, and quicker than Sigyn had imagined it would be. She listened politely as the others discussed various topics – staying quiet and trying not to call too much attention to herself. She was thinking of Ari, hoping he wasn’t missing her too badly, when a gentle nudge from Ambassador Bjornson shook her from her reverie.

“Lady Aradottir, I believe our host is speaking to you.”

Stark was looking at her expectantly. “I think we lost you there for a minute, sunshine.”

“Forgive me, Mr. Stark. I’ve never been so far from home before.”

“Missing your husband?”

“Yes.” It was the safest response, one they would be expecting, yet one that gave nothing away. She hoped her face was as guarded as her answer.

“He didn’t want to come with you?”

“He was content to stay at home.” This was as close to an outright lie as she was comfortable with, and she didn’t need to turn to Thor to feel his stare. “Midgardian diplomacy is not his area of expertise.”  

“And what is?”

Thor answered for her. “Sigyn has answered enough of your inquiries, Stark,” he said, his tone friendly but firm.

“Sorry, big guy. I tend to forget just how chivalrous you Asgardians tend to be. Well, _most_ of you anyway.”

A motion from the pilot caught his eye, and he nodded before turning back to Sigyn. “I guess we’ll just need to get to know each other better later,” he said, rising from his seat as they came to a stop. “For now – welcome to New York."

* * *

Loki stared at the floor as the water drained from his shower, his fingers slowly working through a particularly tough knot in his hair; it was longer than he preferred, but there weren’t any guards willing to trust him around sharp objects enough to trim it. Sigyn had mentioned she liked it longer, that it softened his features and made him seem slightly less _severe_ , and for that reason alone, he tolerated it. Well, that – and the knowledge that one day soon she might tangle her own fingers in it once again, gripping him to her and crying out his name as he delved between her thighs…his cock twitched in eagerness, and he had to redirect his thoughts. _You fool – that is **exactly** what they want from you._

The guards made no secret of the wagers they made on his behavior – a tankard of mead for every cutting remark, the polishing of a shield if he physically lashed out – but their latest bet, brought about by his recent spontaneous nuptials and delayed honeymoon, incensed him: the first guard to catch him pleasuring himself would have an entire week’s shifts covered by the rest of his brothers-at-arms, a prize far too great to resist. Loki only _thought_ he’d been watched carefully before; now, the near constant scrutiny of every move he made, no matter how innocuous, was infuriating.

Predictably, they had underestimated his self-control. His wedding night – if it could even have been called that – had been the most trying, but he’d managed. His skin had very nearly ignited with the memory of Sigyn’s lips on his, sweeter and softer and more inviting than he remembered. Bringing himself to release in that state would have been effortless, but Loki would see every guard in Asgard rotting in the dungeons with him before he would give into his urges and grant them the satisfaction of catching him.

His determination, however, did not preclude him from taking long showers (a luxury his mother had insisted upon – once a prince, always a prince in her eyes), much to the chagrin of whichever guard was forced to watch him as he bathed. Even the hot water eventually turning cold was no obstacle to his enjoyment – as the temperature changed, he would simply shift into his jotun form to stay out of his cell as long as possible. 

The confinement of that small room only served to set his already frayed nerves even further on edge – he couldn’t help but worry constantly for Sigyn’s safety while she was gone. Torture, violation, imprisonment, _death_ – each scenario his mind conjured for his new wife’s time on Midgard was worse than the last. The weakness and helplessness he felt were still new and decidedly unpleasant – his whole life, he’d always taken great pains to remain in control, but it seemed like lately, he’d been anything _but_.

“Are you quite finished? Or are you planning on using all the water in Asgard?” asked the guard, just another in the long line of wardens whose names Loki had never bothered to learn, an exaggerated sigh punctuating his words.

Loki could have remained as silent as he usually did, but he took pity on the man. “Perhaps I sense how much you enjoy admiring my bare behind and I don’t wish to deny you the pleasure.” The mead the guard earned with that acerbic response would have to be enough recompense for the otherwise uneventful surveillance of his charge.

Loki’s fingers finally worked through his hair unimpeded, and he stepped out of the water and turned to the sentry. The man couldn’t help but glance down, the tiniest hint of displeasure at serving yet another week’s worth of duties crossing his features before he threw a towel Loki’s direction. “Dress quickly.”

“What’s wrong? Tired of feeling less than a man at the sight of me?” asked Loki as he dried off. At the rate he was going, his loose tongue would have the guard too drunk on mead to serve his next shift.

The man snorted. “At least I keep _my_ wife happy,” he said, apparently angling to add a shield polishing to his list of prizes.

The urge to pummel the man into the ground almost overwhelmed his better judgment, but Loki just smiled at him. “One night with me, and she would learn for herself just why jotuns are called Frost _Giants_. Pity for her I’m no longer available.”

A veil of anger clouded over the guard’s eyes, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Loki was still dangerous – and likely strong enough to do the man some serious damage before he could call for help.

Loki took his time getting dressed, simply because the man had told him to hurry, but there was only so much he could do to prolong his freedom. He slipped on his soft boots, running his hands through his wet hair as he stood up and stepped forward.

They walked back toward the main hall of the dungeons, coming to where it split into two different paths to find two more guards awaiting them, one of them holding a pair of shackles.

“What’s this?” asked Loki, a stab of panic in his gut. Protecting himself against one guard was easy enough, but three? His two regular visitors – Thor and Sigyn – were off-realm. Without the fear of being caught, what was to keep these guards from hurting him in some way? The wagers on his behavior he _knew_ of might pale in comparison to those he didn’t.

“Your cooperation is appreciated, but not essential… _jotun_.” He spit the last word out as a curse. “You have nothing to fear, provided you allow me to put these on without a fuss.”

Loki did as he was asked, putting his hands out and suppressing a wince as the cold metal slid around his wrists.   

They herded him down the corridor away from his cell. As much as he hated the small room, it had become a strange sort of comfort to him in the months he’d been incarcerated, the last remaining place in Asgard he had any sort of order and control. He couldn’t stop the odd sense of unease that surfaced as he was led away. 

He recognized where they were going without needing to ask – the hallways that led to the royal family’s apartments were as familiar to him as the anger and disappointment he’d lived with for so long. He’d only been there once since his return to Asgard, when his mother had brought him to her rooms on his third day back. This time, he was escorted to her private gardens instead of her chambers, where she was waiting for him.

“Remove his shackles,” she said to the lead guard when they arrived.

“Your Majesty, I’m afraid I cannot – “

“Do as I ask or you will be serving the rest of your days on the furthest outposts of the nine realms.”

With reluctance, he turned to Loki and grabbed his wrists. “If it were up to me, you’d never leave that cell again.”

Loki rubbed his wrists dramatically as the shackles fell away. “Mother,” said Loki, feigning an exaggerated look of innocence. “This guard is being mean to me.”

Frigga rolled her eyes and spoke to the guards. “Wait outside the doors. No one is to enter or leave without my permission. If Loki tries to escape,” she turned to her younger son, her expression serious, “you have my consent to use any means necessary to restrain him.”

The lead guard tightened his grip on his staff, the look on his face giving away his fervent hope that Loki would do something to give him the opportunity to do just that. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” They split up, stationing themselves at their posts without another word.

“So,” said Frigga, ushering Loki to a pair of chairs beneath a tree once the guards were out of earshot. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

At his puzzled look, she continued. “Are you not now properly wed?”

“Ah, yes. Forgive me for not getting the invitations out sooner,” he replied. “It was all very spur of the moment.”

“And your bride – was she amenable to your plan?”

“She found the venue quite _lacking_ …but she willingly consented.”

“And what motivated you to do such a thing?”

Loki considered his words carefully, but he knew his mother well. She was not one to question him without at least a little knowledge of the right answers. He decided the truth – at least a _half_ truth – would be the best option.

“Edmund came to see me. He tried to convince me that Sigyn was better off without me. I disagreed.”

“Is that all he told you?”

“What do you mean? Was that not enough?”

“Why did you insist on Thor’s presence? Any of the guards could have served as witness just as easily.”

“Well, I wanted at least _one_ family member at my wedding, and it was far too short notice to send word to Jotunheim.” She tilted her head, giving him the same look she always did when he tried to hide something from her, the one that never failed to move him. He sighed, rubbing his freed hands nervously up and down his legs. “Edmund told me Thor proposed to Sigyn in my absence. I needed to hear it from him myself.”

“I see. Loki, I’m reminded of a memory of you as a small child, ages ago. You had a favorite toy, a stuffed rabbit that never left your side. Thor made the mistake once of trying to take it from you. Do you remember?”

“Skoppa. I remember.” That rabbit had been his constant companion, his one true friend in the world, until Thor had attempted to get his grubby hands on it.

“And do you remember what happened to it?”

“I locked it away where no one could have it. Not even me.” He couldn’t help but smirk at his mother’s subtle yet skillful manipulation. “This was different, Mother. Sigyn is not a plaything, but she _is_ mine. Not Thor’s, not any other man’s. Mine and mine alone.”

“So, it was an act of possession? Or do you truly love her?”

He looked at her, incredulous. “I love her more than Volstagg loves food. More than Fandral lusts after wenches, more than Sif loves battle, more than Hogun loves silence. More even, than Thor loves his precious Mjölnir. You know this. How could you even ask me such a thing?”

“I only wanted to be sure,” she said with a smile. “What did your brother say when you asked him about his proposal?”

“I _intended_ to ask him about it,” said Loki, looking off into the distance. He’d wanted to confront his brother, to scream and rage against him for what he had done, but upon Thor’s arrival in the dungeons, Loki had changed his mind. “I couldn’t do it.”

“And why not?”

“That insufferable oaf…he is the most honorable man I know. As much as it pains me to think on it, I know he only acted out concern for the welfare of Sigyn and my child – and out of his love for me.” He turned back to his mother, a small laugh escaping his lips. “Tell him I said any of that, and I will deny it until Ragnarok itself.”

“Your secret is safe with me, dear. However, you have made _one_ mistake.”

He bristled. “And what is that?”

“You say that Sigyn is yours and yours alone. I believe there is one other who would take issue with that claim.”

She stood from her chair, walking to the door that led to her personal chambers. Opening it, she spoke briefly to someone Loki couldn’t see before reaching forward. When she turned back, she was holding Ari in her arms.

In the weeks since Loki had last seen him, it appeared Ari had grown exponentially. As they approached, Loki could see his son looking up at his grandmother, smiling around tiny blue fingers that had lodged themselves in his mouth. Loki’s chest hurt at the sight of him – this time not out of fear or anger, but out of something far more frightening. _Love_.

“Consider this a belated wedding gift. Would you like to hold your son?”

Loki nodded and reached out, with more than a little trepidation. He hadn’t held Ari in his arms since the day after his return to Asgard; it would break him if his son reacted as badly to him as he had then. He took him gently from the queen, noting that he was much heavier than he was expecting.   

Ari regarded him, his blue eyes enormous, and for a heartbeat Loki was convinced he was going to cry. Instead, and to Loki’s immense relief, he began chattering excitedly at him.

“Hello little one,” said Loki with a shake of his head. He tried to swallow, finding it far more difficult than it had been mere moments before.

Ari continued to babble, something Loki couldn’t quite place. He turned to Frigga. “What is he saying?”

“Listen carefully,” she said, an enigmatic smile on her lips.

Loki looked at his son, narrowing his eyes in concentration. At first, it was just nonsensical noise, but then it clarified itself, forming a single word repeated over and over.

“Papapapapapa,” said Ari, revealing four perfect white teeth as he smiled up at his father, his wet hand reaching for Loki’s cheek.

“Papa?” said Loki, choking back a sob. He looked to his mother. “ _How?_ ”

“Sigyn intercepts your clothing from the prison before they can be laundered. She uses your tunics as a blanket for him so he will know your smell. She even asked for a small portrait of you from the palace collection to be hung by his bedside. Ari knows you Loki, because his mother has worked tirelessly to ensure he does.”

Loki pulled his son tighter to him, kissing the crown of his head. When he pulled back, Ari’s hair was damp with tears.

Renewed determination flowed through Loki’s veins. He was done with the constant surveillance, the endless eyes watching and scrutinizing every move he made. He wanted his life back; he yearned for his wife’s touch, craved his son’s admiration. He would see Ari grow to be a man, not from a prison cell, but by Sigyn’s side – by any means necessary.

* * *

Sigyn’s New York obligations kept her blessedly busy, allowing her no time to get bogged down in thoughts of her son and husband back on Asgard.

Her days were spent in various conferences with the two senior ambassadors, meeting with one international delegate after another – all of them anxious to learn more about Asgard, while simultaneously seeking reassurance that there would not be a repeat of what they referred to as the “Siege of New York”. She allowed Ambassadors Bjornson and Sperlason to field all the diplomatic questions, deferring to their vast knowledge and expertise, but she listened and observed as carefully as she could – delighting in learning by experience for once, rather than merely from a book.

They had been escorted on a tour of the most devastated parts of the city, many of which would still need years of work before they were fully recovered from the attack. As part of their mission, the Asgardians were prepared to provide what they could to hasten the process – but the haunted looks that Sigyn was faced with every day were clear proof that for some of them, no amount of time would ever fully heal their pain or end their suffering.

Thor stayed busy as well, not with political maneuvering, but with councils concerning mutual defense. There were always new threats on the horizon, threats that the two realms could work together to defeat. Thor may not have had a diplomat’s strengths, but his vast knowledge of war and battle was something not to be overlooked.

In the evenings, they would reconvene at Stark Tower. It had been deemed the most central location for them – and the safest. The CEO of Stark Industries – and Stark’s longtime companion – Pepper Potts, was usually there, too. Sigyn was thrilled to have another woman to talk to, especially one who seemed to balance her work and her personal life so well. Had they met under different circumstances, Sigyn was certain she and Ms. Potts would have had much to bond over – both of them seemingly fated to spend the rest of their lives with the most difficult and demanding personalities each of their realms had to offer.

Thor was never far from her side when they were all together, his body language asking without words questions of her safety and security. She did what she could to communicate to him that she was fine, hoping the Midgardians weren’t too suspicious of his protective behavior.

On their fourth night, Thor didn’t return in time for their evening meal. It grew late, the dusk fading into full dark with still no sign of him.

“I wouldn’t be worried,” said Ambassador Bjornson, noting her troubled look. “The Prince is fully capable of looking after himself. It’s getting late, however, and we have a full day tomorrow. I am retiring to bed; you should do the same.”

“Yes, of course,” said Sigyn. “I may wait just a bit longer first.”

She sat in the common area of the floor they had been given, idly flipping through the reading material that had been left for them – thin, soft-covered books, filled with page after page of glossy, colorful portraits of items for sale and famous people of Midgard. Nothing kept her attention for long, and she was just about to give up and go to bed when the elevator door opened.

She jumped from her seat eagerly, hoping to see Thor – but greeted with the sight of Stark instead. Her face fell.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” he said. “You’re going to hurt my feelings. Expecting someone else?”

“Thor hasn’t returned yet this evening. I’m concerned.”

“His meetings must have run longer than expected. I’m sure he’ll be along soon.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Stark,” she said, anxiety coiling in the pit of her stomach. “I – I should probably retire for the evening.”

“Wait, I’ve barely had the chance to speak to you since you arrived. Please, sit.” He settled into a seat across from hers. “So, Lady Aradottir, how are you liking Earth – sorry, _Midgard_ – so far?”

“Your realm is lovely, though I fear I’ve not seen nearly enough of it to give a properly educated opinion.”

“Yeah, New York is amazing, but it’s still not everything we Midgardians have to offer.” He pointed to a large box hanging on the wall, a device they had referred to as a television. “Those who can’t travel usually just use this thing to see the world.”

He pushed a button on a smaller device and the screen sprang to life. The image that came up was of some sort of party, well-dressed people mingling around while a man spoke at the front of the room. As she watched, she could see the figure of a dark-haired man making his way down some stairs in the background. When he reached the bottom, he swung a hidden cane from behind him, knocking another man down with such force it had to have broken bones.

The attacker grabbed the man who had been speaking by the collar of his clothing, dragging him forward and flipping him onto a large stone table. As he did, his face came into focus for a split second, and Sigyn couldn’t stifle a gasp. _Loki._

On the television, the room had erupted into chaos. “Damn, I’m so sorry,” said Stark. “Sometimes I think that’s all they ever show on TV anymore.” He pressed another button, and a different set of images came up – Loki yet again, but this time in the very building she was currently sitting in. Fighting with Stark, fighting with Thor – and yet always with a maniacal sort of _glee_. It was sickening.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m not feeling well.” She nearly threw herself from the room and down the hall.

She came to a balcony entrance, and stepped outside. They were high enough above the city that a small breeze was able to reach her, cooling her heated skin.

Loki had never been very forthcoming with her about what had happened on Midgard, insisting that it had been unpleasant and terrifying. From the images she had just seen, she knew he had been telling at least a partial truth. It _had_ been unpleasant and terrifying – but mostly for the Midgardians. He had appeared to be deriving some sort of perverse pleasure in their fear. In her heart, she knew he hadn’t been in his right mind, but it was still horrifying to see it for herself.

She was using the edge of her sleeve to wipe away her tears, cursing her lack of a proper handkerchief, when she heard the door open behind her.

“You gonna be okay, sunshine?”

“Forgive me, Mr. Stark. I haven’t been this ill since I was preg –“ She almost caught herself, but she stopped too late.

Stark raised an eyebrow, the surprise at this new information plainly written on his face. “Pregnant? You’ve got kids?”

She mentally chastised herself for letting such a foolish detail slip. Trying to lie would be a waste of time; this man was as smart as Loki, and just as dangerous. “Only one. A son.”

“Why didn’t you bring him with you? A little _junior_ junior delegate? That would have been a hell of a field trip for him.”

Sigyn added _field trip_ to her list of things she’d have to research later. “He’s only an infant.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ari.”

“Ari. Good name. Let me guess…named for your father?”

“Yes, that’s right. How did you –“

“I dated a girl from Iceland once,” he said with a wave of his hands. “It’s a country here on Earth…er, Midgard as you call it. Two girls actually.” He looked at her with a grin. “Twins, to be honest.”

“At the same time?”

“Every chance I could. It was all very… _educational_.”

Sigyn couldn’t stop her eyes from widening; she was beginning to wonder if the Midgardians enjoyed trying to shock her. “I can only imagine.”

“They taught me quite a bit. Their naming system there, it’s very similar to yours I believe. Patronymics and all that?”

“Yes, patronymics.” Her pulse began to race, fear taking hold as Stark steered the conversation to its obvious conclusion.

“So, your kid…what is he? Ari Thorson?”

“Thorson?” Sigyn let loose a nervous giggle. “Oh, no. No. Thor and I are merely…acquaintances.”

Stark narrowed his eyes, her slight hesitation between the last two words not going unnoticed. “Acquaintances? Yeah, I don’t think so. He calls you Sigyn, while everyone else calls you Lady Aradottir. He watches over you like a momma bear hovering over her cub. Do you even have bears where you’re from? Doesn’t matter – the point is, there’s something between the two of you, something more than you’re letting on, and I’m just _dying_ to know what it is.”

“We are friends. Nothing more than that.”

“Not your type, huh? Smart girl like you, probably into the more intellectual guy. The thinker. Maybe someone with a hint of, oh I don’t know…craftiness and cunning?” His smile remained, but his eyes went serious. “Tell me, what _is_ your son’s patronymic?”

Sigyn took a deep breath, trying to buy time. In preparation for their trip, she and Thor had never really discussed what to do should she find herself alone with anyone who’d had dealings with Loki; truthfully, it wasn’t something they’d considered to be a serious possibility. Yet here she was, and the way Stark looked at her spoke to the fact that of all of Thor’s Midgardian comrades, _he_ was the one most likely to put the pieces together.

There had to be something she could recall from her training to avoid Stark’s incessant questioning; he obviously suspected something – something very close to the truth – but watching the images of Loki’s time on Midgard had left her too emotionally compromised to think clearly.

“Well, he’s named for my husband. His father.” A terrible answer, one that would only provoke more questions, but she was out of ideas.

Stark rolled his eyes, exasperation cracking through his friendly veneer. “Yes, but what’s _his_ name?”

The small amount of control she had remaining to her began to slip. “Why does it matter?” she asked, her voice more desperate than she’d intended.

Stark pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing in an effort to calm himself. “I had hoped this conversation would go better than this. That maybe you’d be a bit more helpful. But it looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”

He motioned at a window behind her, and she turned to see Barton coming through the door to join them. The already chill air seemed even more frigid in his presence.

“Agent Barton and I had a very interesting discussion earlier,” said Stark. “Care if I share your information with Lady Aradottir, Clint?”

“Not at all.”

“So, as you know, Clint here was one of the unfortunate few to have very _personal_ dealings with the last Asgardian who came to visit us – the one from those videos. One not quite as benevolent as you appear to be.”

She turned to Barton, and had to look away from the intensity of his stare. Stark hadn’t even said Loki’s name, but the hate in his eyes was practically enough to choke her. “Yes, I am aware.”

“Well, it seems that Earth’s would-be dictator didn’t require _much_ rest during his short stay, but he did need to gather his strength a time or two. And one of those times, Agent Barton found him with a very strange item. A braid of hair – too long and the wrong color to be his own or Thor’s.”

Sigyn blinked slowly. Panic was welling up in her chest, but she fought to remain calm. She didn’t say anything, not wanting to help tighten the rapidly constricting noose around her neck.

“He didn’t dwell on it at the time, as _occupied_ as we all were, but after Loki’s defeat, we went back and gathered any and all evidence we could find. And wouldn’t you know it – we found a few hairs.”

Sigyn forced herself to keep her gaze steady, to not look away. “What does this have to do with me?”

“See, that’s the interesting thing. We were afraid Loki had a human captive somewhere, so we ran tests on the hair hoping to identify who it belonged to. The results were peculiar but conclusive – whoever or whatever the hair came from was not from Earth.”

“He’d just come from other realms, realms we on Asgard weren’t even aware of. It could have come from anywhere.”

“Yeah, it could have, but I don’t think it did. Barton here, he’s known for his powers of observation. It’s kind of his _thing_. And that day you arrived, _you_ pinged all kinds of warning bells in his mind.”

“How is that? I’ve done nothing wrong.” She thought back, desperate to figure out what she had done to reveal herself, but she came up empty.

This time, Barton himself spoke up. “When Stark mentioned Loki’s name, you touched your wedding ring. Unconsciously, I’m sure, but revealing. And your hair? It’s the exact color of that braid.”

Sigyn could feel a flush creep into her cheeks, unbidden and unwelcome.  “Where is Thor?” she asked, needing a familiar face in that moment more than she needed air.

“Occupied for the moment,” said Stark. “We don’t need him right now. This is just a friendly chat.”

If this was friendly, Sigyn didn’t want to see hostile. “I touched my ring, I have similarly colored hair – that’s all very good, but it’s not proof of anything.”

“You’re right,” said Barton. “But this is.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.

Stark took it from him, opening it and reading over the contents. “Hmmm. Now this is _very_ interesting.” He turned the paper to Sigyn. “Science, magic – call it whatever you like, but sometimes, it just _works_.”

She glanced at the paper, unable to garner any meaning from its contents. “What does it say?”

“You’ll have to forgive us, but our last interaction with your kind made us a bit more…careful. Humans tend to leave parts of themselves wherever they go – and it seems Asgardians do as well. My housekeeper found a few strands of hair in your bed when she was cleaning, and per my request, she brought them to me. We compared them to the alien hair we already had.

“Having the hair root would have been ideal, but we work with what we’re given. This paper says the mitochondrial DNA we extracted from each was a perfect match. Unfortunately, that doesn’t rule out maternal-line siblings – but in one of your many conversations, you mentioned to Ms. Potts that you only have one brother and no sisters.”

Sigyn just stared at him, her mind reeling. She hadn’t given these Midgardians nearly enough credit for their resilience and tenacity. Craftiness and cunning indeed – she would have been impressed if she wasn’t so terrified.

“So, Lady Aradottir. Would you care to share with us how an Asgardian whom you profess to _barely_ know – one who very nearly destroyed our entire realm – came into the possession of a lock of your hair?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, kudos and comments are very much appreciated! Thanks! :)


	30. Chapter 30

Sigyn looked away from Stark and out over the city. The adrenaline coursing through her veins turned everything sharp with clarity – the horns and squeals of the vehicles far below, the place in the bodice of her dress that pinched with every shallow breath, the lights on the buildings, so bright and pervasive they blotted out the stars above.

Somewhere up there, far out of her reach, were her son and her husband, each of them waiting for her safe return. Her response to the unexpected inquisition she was facing would determine if she would see them again, or if they would all be kept apart for eternity.

With a deep breath she leaned carefully against the railing, taking in a line of traffic that glittered much like the Bifröst at home, and she was struck by a sudden memory.

A terrace in the palace on Asgard, her shoulders warmed by a shawl Loki had conjured for her, his fingers in her hair and his mouth on hers, open and warm and gentle. Her certainty in that moment, as she held him to her, tasting his lips and breathing him in, that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Yggdrasil’s branches would wither and die before she would let these Midgardians take that from her.

“Well? What have you got to say, sweetheart?”

Sigyn raised her head, fortitude straightening her spine. She spun to face her inquisitors once more.

“Mr. Stark, this is a magnificent palace you’ve built for yourself.”

He let loose a short laugh, his forced mirth failing to completely hide his irritation. “I’m not really sure what that has to do with –“

“Tell me, how did you make the fortune that paid for it?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you not going to answer my question?”

“I have no need to. You and I both already have the answers we seek.” She stepped forward. “Thor told me much about you before we traveled here. Weapons and munitions – is that not how you acquired your wealth?”

“Stark Industries is no longer in the business of dealing in death.”

“Is that an admission that at one time, it was?”

“The old Stark Industries may have had a hand in the more… _unsavory_ aspects of the global markets. But it made me a ton of money – money that I’m now using to fight those forces instead of support them.”

“I see. So…you’ve had a change of heart?”

“If you’re implying that Loki has had a similar experience, then you’ll have to forgive my skepticism, sunshine. Last I checked, a _change_ of heart requires you _have_ a heart.”

“You think Loki heartless?”

“I’m sorry, but were we watching two completely different videos back there? Do you have _any_ idea how many innocent lives were lost during his spectacularly failed bid for world domination?”

“The weapons that built your empire – did they not also take innocent lives?”

“Not by my hand, they didn’t.”

“And would the people felled by them recognize the distinction?” She swung to face Barton before Stark could reply. “And you, a trained, lethal soldier. How many have been brought down by your arrows?”

The archer considered her with a shrug. “Considering how much evil is still lurking out there, not enough.”

“Evil. Such a subjective description, wouldn’t you agree? Do you not think the families of those who have died at your hands would look upon _you_ as the evil one?”

Barton didn’t answer.

“Do you think,” continued Sigyn, “that given the chance to explain your motives you could bring those people to understanding? That they could learn to forgive your actions?”

“I doubt it.”

“Then perhaps you can grasp just how difficult my job is.”

“What exactly is your job, Lady Aradottir?” asked Stark. “We’ve been led to believe you’re just a junior delegate from Asgard.”

“That is the truth.”

“But not the entire truth.”

Sigyn looked him in the eye, determined not to flinch or look away. “The hair you found is mine. I gave the braid to Loki myself, not quite two years ago. Loki is my husband, and the father of my child.”

She expected anger, but the laugh that burst forth from Stark’s mouth startled her. “You had _sex_ with that guy?”

“Unless your means of conceiving a child are radically different from ours,” said Sigyn, completely taken aback by his boldness, “then I can assume you know the answer to that.”

“On _purpose_?”

“I hardly think the details are any of your concern. He didn’t force himself on me, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“I’ve gotta ask…does he wear that helmet in bed? Because that seems awfully dangerous.”

Sigyn clenched her jaw, ignoring his query and answering with a question of her own. “Do you plan on detaining me? Perhaps punishing me in Loki’s stead? If so, I suggest you get on with it. But know this; you do so at your own risk.”

“Is that some sort of threat?”

“More of a warning. Harm me, and my husband’s vengeance will be unmerciful.”

“Not really much he can do from a prison cell, is there?”

Sigyn smiled at this, a humorless smile, full of terrible knowledge and understanding. “He will wait, and you will think yourselves safe. Your grandchildren, possibly even their grandchildren, they will know peace. But Loki will outlive you all, he will remember, and he will see justice done.”

“We survived him the last time he was here.”

“He was weakened, and you had Thor’s help. You would lose the advantage of both should you choose to test his resolve.”

They stood that way for a time, minutes that stretched into what felt like ages, none of them saying a word. It was Barton who eventually broke the silence.

“I’ve been under Loki’s control. I’ve seen his mind, and let me tell you, it wasn’t pleasant. I’m not easily rattled, but that bastard…” He let his words trail off with a shake of his head.

“Agent Barton, I do not make light of the fact that you in particular were terribly wronged. And though it will be of no comfort to you, I, too, have been victim of his misplaced anger. But it is not my place to ask forgiveness or absolution – that is for Loki to seek himself, if he chooses to do so.”

“He didn’t send you here on his behalf?”

“He did not. In fact, he was quite against my coming here, fearing for my safety. Thor and I assured him I would be in no danger, that we would keep my identity hidden. I see now that was a foolish miscalculation on my part.”

“What is it you want from us?” asked Stark.

“I only ask that I be allowed to continue my work, to learn of humanity and its place in our cosmos without fear of reprisal for Loki’s crimes. And if you eventually find it in you to listen to what Thor and I know of him – of the time he spent in the void, in the company of _true_ monsters – then I believe both of our realms would be better for it.”

The smirk on Stark’s face was so redolent of her husband’s mannerisms it took Sigyn’s breath away. “That’s a hell of a speech, Lady Aradottir – they teach you that in Diplomacy 101?” Ignoring her moue of confusion, he continued on. “But I have to ask…do you _truly_ want peace for both of our realms? Or do you just want Loki’s freedom?”

“I don’t find those desires to be mutually exclusive, Mr. Stark,” said Sigyn, her voice at once sad and hopeful. “I will do everything in my power to ensure both come to pass.”

“And why should we trust you?”

“In my time here, I have done nothing to indicate I harbor any malicious intent toward your realm. I have certainly had opportunity to do so, were that my wish.”

“You lied to us about who you really are,” said Barton. “That doesn’t exactly work in your favor.”

“I would argue that I did not _lie_ – that I merely withheld information for my safety, and for yours.”

Stark clicked his tongue in disapproval. “See, once again, that sounds an awful lot like a threat.”

“I am no threat to you,” said Sigyn, holding her hands out in a gesture of surrender. “I have none of Loki’s sorcery, or Thor’s strength. As neither of them is here now, I am completely at your mercy, as I’m sure was your goal. I can only give you my word that my intentions have been entirely honorable, and hope that you believe me.”

Stark looked out over the city, his eyes focusing on a distance spot. “Can you even grasp how many people out there would love to see your husband’s head on a platter? How many of them would happily tear you apart in his place?”

“I cannot even begin to imagine. But just as I would not demand you grant Loki’s forgiveness by my actions, I would ask you not condemn _me_ for his.” Taking a risk, she stepped forward gingerly, placing her hand on Stark’s arm. “Spare me now, if not for Loki’s sake, then for my son’s. He is innocent in this; do not sentence him to a life as an orphan.”

Before he could answer, Sigyn could feel the hair on her neck prickle, the subtle shift in the air around her just before a bolt of lightning burst from the sky, hitting the top of Stark Tower not far from where they stood. She jumped, squeezing her eyes shut in reflex. When she opened them again, Thor was beside her, his eyes blazing with fury.

“What is the meaning of this?” he bellowed, Mjölnir poised to strike.

Stark, wisely recognizing his inability to fight an Asgardian without the benefit of his armored suit, stepped back. “Hold up there, Lightning McQueen. Don’t kill me just yet.”

Sigyn launched herself between the two men, her hands splayed on Thor’s chest in an attempt to appease him. She was nowhere near strong enough to stop him if he wanted to push her aside, but he hesitated, lowering his hammer by the smallest of margins.

“Are you injured?” he asked. “Have they hurt you in any way?”

“No! No, they haven’t,” said Sigyn. “But I need you to listen. They know the truth.”

“How? What did you tell them?”

“Nothing they didn’t already know or suspect. They have proof tying me to Loki. From the braid of my hair he had.”

Thor dropped his arm completely, grinding his teeth in exasperation. “ _Damn_ that sentimental fool.”

Sensing the immediate threat to his life had passed, Stark spoke up. “You should be really proud of her, Odinson. She’s a hell of a negotiator. Pulled out all the stops. Used everything from my personal history to her own kid to save her skin.”  

Thor snapped his head to Sigyn. “They know of Ari?”

“Yes.”

“A little junior reindeer,” said Stark. “Who would’ve guess-“

A glare from Thor shut him up. “Where are Radi and Sandarr? I will have their heads for leaving you unattended.”

“And where were _you_?” she countered with a hiss, her professional comportment dissolving beneath the knee-buckling relief of Thor’s return.

He sighed. “Conferring with a friend, just as Stark suggested.” He looked away, defeat and understanding marring his handsome features. “And now I see why.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Stark. “And how is Dr. Foster? Doing well, I’m guessing, considering how long you were gone.”

Thor growled at his insinuation, drawing in a deep breath before answering. "Dr. Foster is fine. She continues her work – some of which you might find to be of paramount importance.”

“Such as?”

“I will happily share what Dr. Foster and I discussed, once Sigyn’s safety is assured. Otherwise, I will have Heimdall open the Bifröst and retrieve us right here – and you will be left to defend yourselves without Asgard’s help.”

“You would leave us to possible destruction? And I thought we were friends.”

“We are. But harm Sigyn, and Loki’s vengeance will be –“

“Let me guess,” said Stark, cutting him off with a wave of his hand. “Unmerciful? Yeah, we’ve covered that.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “So, either way we’re screwed, is that what you’re saying?”

“That is for you to decide.”

“Not much of a choice, is it?” He rubbed the back of his neck, and Sigyn could see the click in his throat as he swallowed. “Let’s get inside. You can give us your big news, and if I need to, I can make a few phone calls.”

“You are a wise man, Stark,” said Thor. “You have my gratitude.”

“Save it big guy, you’re not out of the woods yet.” They walked to the door, and Stark opened it for Sigyn. “I still can’t wrap my head around it. Loki, with a _wife_? What the hell did he ever do to deserve you?”

“I’ve spoken to Ms. Potts, Mr. Stark,” said Sigyn, shooting him a sidelong glance as she passed him. “Surely that is a question you ask _yourself_ every day.”

* * *

“Dr. Foster has continued to pursue the work she started in New Mexico,” said Thor, settling into a chair that looked fit to burst under his bulk.

“And what work is that, exactly?” asked Stark. “S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t necessarily share _all_ of its secrets with me.”

“She is searching for a way through the Nine Realms that does not involve the Bifröst. More specifically, a way to Asgard itself.” He glanced at Sigyn, his countenance carrying a measure of guilt that surprised her. Though he had not spoken much of his time spent banished in Midgard, Sigyn was aware that Jane Foster had made a significant impression on him – maybe more than he’d let on. 

“And what does her research have to do with this potential threat you mentioned? She find some sort of new monster out there in deep space, just waiting to destroy us?”

“She does not believe it to be a _new_ threat – but rather one we have already seen.”

“The Chitauri?” asked Barton.

“And whomever they were working for,” said Thor. “Recently, her equipment picked up distant readings she found familiar. When she investigated more closely, she discovered them to be identical to those recorded during the invasion of New York.”

Stark leaned forward. “You said ‘distant readings’”, he said. “Just _how_ distant?”

“Not distant enough. And drawing closer to your realm with each passing day.”

Stark collapsed back into his chair. “Well, shit.” He rubbed his mouth absentmindedly, his eyes flitting back and forth as he considered Thor’s words. “How much time have we got?”

“She is not certain, but she fears the next month may find them within striking distance.”

Stark pursed his lips, and Sigyn could see every possibility play themselves out behind his eyes in the space of a few seconds. With a breath, he slapped his hands down on his legs, and the finality of the sound made her flinch. “I guess we don’t have much time to lose then, do we?” He turned to Barton. “Let’s round everyone up, make a battle plan.” He started to rise from his seat, but Thor stopped him.

“If I may, there is another who may be able to lend his assistance.”

“I hope you’re talking about yourself.”

“Myself, yes – but also…” He turned to Sigyn, almost apologetically. “Loki.”

Stark was reduced to an apoplectic invective at the suggestion – his rant was colored with expletives, used so creatively Sigyn was sure they would have impressed even the most battle-hardened Asgardian warrior. Barton had no need to give voice to his own concerns – the loathing radiating from him even in his silence was nearly palpable.   

“But how?” she asked Thor, once Stark had settled enough for her to interject. “These Midgardians clearly don’t want his help. And I suspect convincing Loki to lend his aid would be beyond even your talents. He would undoubtedly welcome a blow to the head from Mjölnir first.”

“His motivations have changed since he was last here, Sigyn,” he said, leveling her with a look weighted with meaning. “I’m certain, given the right incentive, he will do what is right.”

“And your father? He would never allow it.”

“My father fought for the security of Midgard before. He will want us to use whatever tools we have at our disposal.”

“Hold up there,” said Stark. “We haven’t agreed to this plan just yet.”

“Loki spent a lengthy period with these creatures, learned their ways in a manner you could not hope to achieve in the short time you have. His knowledge could prove critical in your defense.”

“Or in our defeat,” countered Stark.

“He has much to lose should his allegiance prove false,” said Thor. “More than even _he_ would risk.” He reached for Sigyn, squeezing her hand in his.

“His _allegiance_?” said Stark with a scoff. “He didn’t seem to care much about anything beyond himself.”

“There was a time I might have agreed with you, Stark, but that time has since passed. Let me go to him, convince him to help. His reward would leave him forever in your debt.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a debt I wouldn’t want repaid.” Stark got up and began pacing the floor like a caged animal, weighing his options. He whirled back to Thor after a few passes. “What guarantee do I have that you would even come back? Why wouldn’t you just retreat to Asgard and hole up until the threat’s gone?”

“A threat to this realm is a threat to all,” said Thor. “Eliminating it now would only benefit both our worlds.”

With a sigh, Stark returned to his pacing. Silence filled the room, only the sounds of Stark’s incessant footsteps serving to break it. At last, Sigyn spoke up.

“I will stay. As assurance of Thor’s return…and as inducement for Loki’s cooperation.”

Stark stopped in his tracks. “Now that might work.”

“Sigyn, no,” said Thor. “Loki entrusted me with your safety. I cannot allow –“

“You sound exactly like him. When will either of you learn that I am fully capable of caring for myself?”

“I’d believe her,” said Stark. “She held her own just fine earlier.”

“Ambassador Bjornson can stay with me, if it will ease your mind,” said Sigyn. “He and I can continue our studies until you return.” She turned to Stark. “I presume that we will be allowed to remain here under your protection?”

“Not a problem. We’ve got plenty of room.”

“And what am I to tell Loki?” asked Thor, his normally booming voice reduced to a whisper with worry. “When he asks why you did not return with me?”

“You tell him the truth. That my love for him and our son has required that I make a difficult choice, one that he would do well not to squander.”

* * *

Frigga, having seen such an improvement in Loki’s demeanor with his visit to her garden, requested he join her again the following day, and the day after that – until it became something he looked forward to with such yearning it made his skin crawl while waiting to be retrieved.

It had been five days since Sigyn and Thor’s departure, five long days of worry and fear – skillfully hidden under a veneer of indifference around the ever-present guards, and broken only by Ari’s laughter as they played together in the sunlight, dappled across the ground as it filtered through the trees.

Loki remained in his jotun form most of the time, not only to match his son’s appearance, but also because it freed enough of his magic to allow him to conjure things for him. A bird, a spinning top, a toy soldier that danced with a flick of his wrist – all of them earning delighted squeals. Ari’s smile was an exact twin of Sigyn’s – and Loki sought to recreate it as often as he could.

They were lying together on a blanket, Ari fast asleep and Loki propped up on one hand watching the soft rise and fall of his tiny chest as he breathed. He could feel himself trying to match the cadence, his eyes growing heavy and his body quietening into relaxation, when he heard heavy footsteps and his mother’s voice.

“You’ve returned!”

His drowsiness vanished, Loki jumped up at once, careful not to disturb Ari in his haste. He rushed to his mother’s side to find Thor in her embrace.

“Loki, I am glad to see you,” said his brother. “We have an urgent matter to discuss.”

Something in his tone made Loki’s stomach turn. He glanced over Thor’s shoulder, looking for Sigyn but finding only an empty path.

“Thor,” he said through gritted teeth. “Where is my wife?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this is being posted on Thanksgiving here in the States, I thought it appropriate that I take the time to thank all of you faithful readers and followers for being so generous with your support, your reviews, and your kudos. You humble me on a daily basis with your kind words - I am grateful for each of you, and hope that I can continue to improve and grow in ways that entertain. Cheers to all of you! <3
> 
> Also - major kudos to my beta LaTessitrice, for suggesting the "Lightning McQueen" reference in my complete absence of creativity. :)


	31. Bonus: Character Questionnaire - Sigyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm technically cheating a bit, as this isn't a proper chapter - but I had so much fun filling out this character questionnaire, and I thought it would be worth sharing with you faithful readers, as it will give you some more insight to Sigyn as a character (including a better physical description). Hope you enjoy - and look for a proper Chapter 31 later this week!

**Character Name:**  Sigyn Aradottir

 **Age:**  The Midgardian equivalent of between 25 and 28 years old.

 **Appearance:**  Blue eyes (described more completely in #43 below), hair the color of caramel just before it’s cooked too long. Fairly tall - 5’10” or so. Athletically built, but perhaps a little curvier now since the birth of her son.

 **1\. What do you know about this character now that s/he doesn’t yet know?**   How many children she is going to eventually have, their names, and what they will look like. :)

 **2\. What is this character’s greatest flaw?**   Her willingness to let others have control over her and her desires – something she is blessedly learning to combat within herself (and she’s doing a pretty good job here lately).  

 **3.  What do you know about this character that s/he would never admit?**    That she absolutely **_loves_** it when Loki talks dirty to her – the filthier the better.

 **4.  What is this character’s greatest asset?** Her patience and her work ethic (yes, I know that’s two, but they kind of go hand in hand).

 **5.  If this character could choose a different identity, who would s/he be?**    When she was the queen’s handmaiden, she would have said ‘an inter-realm diplomat’; but now that she’s actually working toward and achieving that goal, she would say she’s very happy with her current identity.

 **6.  What music does this character sing to when no one else is around?**    She loves to hum the song that was playing when Loki danced with her on the palace terrace, right before he kissed her for the first time.

 **7.  In what or whom does this character have the greatest faith?**    Her husband, even though he’s never really done anything to earn it (yet).

 **8.  What is this character’s favorite movie?**   If she is ever introduced to movies while on Midgard, I think she would gravitate to comedies (she’s had far too much sadness and angst in her real life – she needs the escape).

 **9.  Does this character have a favorite article of clothing?  Favorite shoes?** The blue dress she wore to the queen’s birthday celebration. She might at one time have said the gown she wore to Thor’s failed coronation…but we won’t talk about what happened to that one. L Shoes? Anything comfortable. Though, I think she might just get introduced to the concept of a “CFM pump” while on Midgard – which Loki will find highly amusing ~~and devastatingly erotic~~.

 **10.  Does this character have a vice?  Name it.** Given the chance, which isn’t often, she enjoys drinking Asgardian wine to the point of slight drunkenness – it’s a pleasant way of blurring her anxieties.

 **11.  Name this character’s favorite person (living or dead).** Ari Lokason, without question, followed closely by Loki No-One’s-Son. 

**12.  What is this character’s secret wish?**    That she will eventually be blessed with one more child by Loki, and that he will be there for the entire pregnancy/birth.

 **13.  What is this character’s proudest achievement?**    Carrying to term and giving birth to her son Ari.

 **14.  Describe this character’s most embarrassing moment.** Probably when Loki tricked her into having loud sex in her apartment while her brother was home, under the guise that he had silenced her room with an enchantment (when in actuality, he had done no such thing – in fact, he most likely _amplified_ it instead).

 **15.  Describe this character’s most devastating moment.** (Aside from the death of her father and the “death” of Loki…) As far as devastating moments in her life go, you probably couldn’t do much worse than when Loki – newly entrusted with the throne of Asgard right after discovering his true nature – told her she was essentially no more than a fuck buddy (in a spectacularly cruel bid to get her to hate him as much as he hated himself).

 **16.  What is this character’s greatest fear?**    That her son will experience unkindness and pain because of his half-jotun heritage, and there will be nothing she can do to prevent it.

 **17.  What is this character’s deepest regret?**    She regrets not fighting harder for the truth after #15, instead of letting Loki dictate her happiness in that moment. She wonders often if things would have worked out differently for both of them if she had.

 **18.  What is this character’s greatest achievement?**    As of Chapter 30, she would say training to become an Asgardian ambassador – and being able to put her newly acquired skills to the test by holding her own against Tony Stark.

 **19.  What is this character’s greatest hope?**    That her husband finds a way to earn his freedom, and that one day both Loki and Ari will be able to live freely in their true jotun forms.

 **20.  Does this character have an obsession?  Name it.** Loki’s smell – that combination of his leather overcoat, and the soap he uses that has a hint of rosemary and sage, and the mint and wine of his breath all layered over his natural male scent. If she could find a way to bottle it and carry it around with her everywhere she went, she would.

 **21.  What is this character’s greatest disappointment?**    That her father was never able to see everything she has accomplished, but mostly that he was never able to meet his grandson.

 **22.  What is this character’s worst nightmare?**    That her husband will earn his freedom, only to backslide and somehow end up back in prison (or worse).

 **23.  Whom does this character most wish to please?  And why?**  For the longest time, she would have said Loki, because she wanted to earn his love and devotion. Now, however, I think she would say she wishes to please _herself_ , not in a selfish way, but in a hey-I-deserve-happiness-too kind of way.

 **24.  Describe this character’s mother.** Dagmar Sigmundsdottir. Married a high-ranking diplomat whose lifestyle allowed her to stay home and raise their two children. Now widowed, she pushed Sigyn to get an appointment at the palace, for the sole purpose of finding a highly-placed husband. Got way more than she bargained for when her daughter caught the eye of Prince Loki. Absolutely devoted grandmother to Ari Lokason, the child she not-so-inadvertently helped create.

 **25.  Describe this character’s father.** Ari Sigarrson. Asgardian diplomat and ambassador. Perished during a failed diplomatic mission to Niðavellir approximately 3 years before the events of Illusion. Doted on his daughter, encouraging her to pursue her studies (even against the wishes of his own wife). Sigyn misses him terribly, and thinks he would have grudgingly approved of Loki, but that he also would have adored his little namesake.

 **26.  If s/he had to choose, with whom would this character prefer to live?** With Loki and Ari, in Loki’s old chambers in the palace (which would necessarily need to be remodeled to accommodate the addition of a growing infant).

 **27.  Where does this character fall in birth order?  What effect does this have?** She is the baby of the family, the younger sister to one older brother. This has caused her much grief, mainly because her brother Edmund doesn’t believe that she can be trusted to care for herself – a belief she is happily proving unwarranted on a daily basis.

 **28.  Describe this character’s siblings or other close relatives.** She has one brother, Edmund, who is older than her by around 5 years or so. He is a Royal Guard in service to the King and Queen of Asgard. When their father died, he made it his solemn duty to care for his little sister in his place, to the point of being unbearably controlling. He wants Sigyn’s happiness, but he also thinks he knows what’s best for her, which causes him to attempt to be more involved in her choices than he should be.  He hates Loki, blaming him for everything bad that has happened to Sigyn (even when those things are a direct result of her _own_ choices).

 **29.  Describe this character’s bedroom.  Describe three cherished items.** When she lived with Edmund, her bedroom had the Asgardian equivalent of a full-sized bed, a small wardrobe with a mirrored door, a side table, and a small trunk. Her rooms in the palace are much more extravagant, consisting of a much larger bed, fireplace with furnished sitting area, an en suite washroom/bathroom, a balcony, and an attached nursery. Three cherished items – a tunic of her father’s, her collection of books, and the shawl Loki conjured for her the night of his mother’s birthday celebration (in a highly successful attempt to woo her with his _magic hands_ ). ;)

 **30.  What is this character’s birth date?  How does this character manifest traits of her astrological sign?** Well, as she’s not from Earth, this wouldn’t really apply. I would say she was born in the Asgardian springtime, though.

 **31\. If this character had to live in seclusion for six months, what six items would she bring?**   A comb for her hair, a portrait of her son, a pen and paper (I’m going to cheat and say that’s one item), and her three favorite books.

 **32.  Why is this character angry?**    She is angry that she has to keep her son’s true nature hidden from the general public, even though she reluctantly understands why she must.

 **33.  What calms this character?** Snuggling with Ari just after he’s had a bath. The rhythm of certain Midgardian poetry. Loki’s fingers as he traces the slope of her neck between her ear and her shoulder.

 **34.  Describe a recurring dream or nightmare this character might have.**    She has very vivid recurring dreams that involve Loki – the details of which she wouldn’t share upon pain of death. ~~They’re totally kinky sex dreams.~~

 **35.  List the choices (not circumstances) that led your character to his/her current predicament.**    The biggest was accepting an appointment as Queen Frigga’s handmaiden when it was offered to her, as in all likelihood she and Loki never would have met otherwise. Spending time with Loki on the night of his mother’s birthday celebration. Becoming his lover. Choosing not to terminate her unexpected pregnancy. Working towards furthering her education and becoming a diplomat. And most recently, choosing to go to Midgard with Thor against Loki’s fervent wishes.

 **36.  List the circumstances over which this character has no control.** Loki’s choices, and how they have affected everyone and everything around her. Whether or not Loki can earn his freedom. Ummmmm...really, everything Loki does in general, to her continued frustration and heartbreak.

 **37.  What wakes this character in the middle of the night?**    Her infant son, quite literally. Figuratively? Her worry that Loki will never see the outside of his prison cell again.

 **38.  How would a stranger describe this character?**   Poised. Pretty, in the nondescript way of someone who doesn’t try too hard to accentuate her best features.  Quiet and reserved, but observant, with a hint of eagerness and curiosity just below the surface.

 **39.  What does this character resolve to do differently every morning?**    She resolves to trust more in herself and in her strengths and abilities.

 **40.  Who depends on this character?  Why?** Before her current circumstances, the queen, when Sigyn was her handmaiden, and her brother Edmund when she was his roommate. Now? Ari, of course. But also Loki, because of her unwavering faith that he can be a good man, husband, and father.

 **41.  If this character knew she had exactly one month to live, what would she do?** She would write long letters to Ari for him to read when he’s grown, full of advice and anecdotes about her life and reassurances that she loved him with her whole heart, unashamedly and unreservedly. She would indulge in all her favorite foods, re-read her favorite books, ask for forgiveness for any wrongs, and make sure those closest to her understand how much she cared for them. And she would make love to her husband as often as she could, kiss him deeply, hug him tightly – and do everything in her power to convince him that the best way to honor her memory would be to _stay out of trouble and raise their son well_. (But if we’re being completely honest, Loki would spend the entire month finding any way possible to keep her alive, through medicine, sorcery, or downright bribery of the Norns.)

 **42.  How would a dear friend or relative describe this character?** Fiercely loyal. Smarter than she gives herself credit for. Patient and kind. Has a passion for learning. Unwavering in her determination once she has her mind set on something. Willing to fight for what she believes in against anyone – up to and including the Allfather himself.

 **43.  What is the character’s most noticeable physical attribute?**    Probably her large eyes – a color that Loki would describe as “the exact shade of the Asgardian sky, the mid-day blue that hovers at the edge of the horizon right before the void swallows it up”.

 **44.  What is this character hiding from him/herself?** Just how much Loki’s penchant for chaos excites her in ways she’d rather not admit.

 **45.  Write one additional thing about your character.** She is desperately curious to know what sex with Loki in his jotun form will be like. :D

 


	32. Chapter 31

Loki pushed past Thor, his eyes sweeping over the expanse of the garden and finding no one else amongst the flora and fauna. “Where is she?” he asked, his voice tight. “Where is Sigyn?”

“She is not here, Loki. Let me ex –“

“I’m sorry,” said Loki, whirling on his feet hard enough to pull a divot from the ground. “I think I misheard you. It sounded like you said ‘she is not here’, but that can’t _possibly_ be right.” He laughed, an utterly joyless sound that made Thor cringe. “I distinctly remember demanding exactly _one_ thing of you before you left – that you return her to me, _unharmed_. Now let me ask again, and slowly this time. Where… _is_ …she?”

“She remains on Midgard.”

“You left her on Midgard,” said Loki, his words barely audible. “Alone.”

“Not alone. Ambassador Bjorn –“

Loki launched himself at Thor before he could finish, his body moving of its own volition, fingers and teeth hunting for any soft point to dig in. He sought to rend flesh, to shear tendons, to break bones into dust, but Thor’s damnable armor hindered his best efforts to find a vulnerable spot. He threw all of his weight into him instead, catching Thor off guard just long enough to successfully drive him into the ground, just barely missing their mother in the process.

Distantly he could hear their voices – both of them begging for Loki to come to reason, to calm himself and listen – but he continued on unabated, straddling Thor’s torso and scratching at his face and throat. He was beyond consolation; he couldn’t rest until he’d drawn blood.

“ _Days_ I’ve waited!” he screamed, his hair falling into his eyes as his blue fingers searched for purchase in Thor’s skin. “And you return without her!? You are even more idiotic than I  –“

The breath was knocked from Loki’s lungs as he found himself forcefully thrown from Thor’s body and into the dirt, momentarily stunned as his head glanced painfully off a buried rock.

“Just hear what I have to say, Loki,” said Thor, raising himself up from the pathway and brushing dirt from his breeches. “I don’t wish to fight with you.”

“And I don’t wish to kill you in front of our mother,” said Loki, clearing his head with a shake as he flipped onto his hands and knees. “But I will.”

He remained crouched, rushing to grasp Thor’s legs. His forward momentum sent his brother flying over his back, far easier than he should have. It was infuriating – if he was going to murder Thor, he at least deserved a proper fight first.

“Loki, stop,” said Thor, jumping to his feet and grasping Loki’s arm to pull him up. “Think of your son.”

“I _am_ thinking of him! How am I to explain to him that his mother was killed because his _dear uncle_ felt it wise to leave her in the company of my enemies?”

He clutched Thor’s forearm, focusing all of his energy until he could feel Thor’s armor begin to crack and fall away. They could bind his magic – but he could still use his true nature to defend himself.

His hand finally reached flesh, and Thor roared as his skin began to freeze under Loki’s touch. He lashed out with his free hand, Loki’s head snapping back painfully as it connected with his cheek. His concentration broken, Loki hesitated just enough to lose his grip and stumble back.

“Sigyn –“ Thor began, before Loki cut him off.

“You aren’t worthy of even uttering her name!” He used what little magic he had available to summon forth a dagger into his hand. He threw it blindly, too overcome with rage to aim properly, and watched in frustration as it flew by Thor’s head to bury itself uselessly into the earth.

Loki tried to run past his brother to retrieve it, intending to thrust it into Thor’s eye up close, but strong arms circled around his waist and lifted him from the ground. He screamed in fury, loud enough that he could hear Ari’s cries begin to mimic his own.

As Loki watched, Frigga – who had been watching the spectacle before her in stunned horror – sprinted away to retrieve her grandson. Thor began to carry Loki away the opposite direction, and was rewarded with more vicious kicks and scratches for his efforts. They rounded a tree, and Loki was once again thrown to the ground; before he could get his bearings, Thor grabbed his wrists and held them above his head.

 He heard it before he felt it, the click of metal on metal, and when he tried to pull his hands away to seek out Thor’s throat, he found himself completely immobilized. Arching his back and tilting his head revealed exactly what he’d feared – his hands were cuffed once again, but this time, the shackles were looped through the strap on Mjolnir’s handle. It was a final insult, and it reduced him to wordless screeches of rage.

With both his magic and his hands bound, he fought with the last weapons available to him, kicking his feet out in an attempt to land a blow on his brother’s face, but even in this – _and when has it ever been different_ thought Loki bitterly – Thor had the advantage. With little effort, he managed to grab Loki’s legs and pin them to the ground, straddling his knees to hold them in place.

“You _must_ listen to me, brother. You have no other choice.”

“I _hate_ you,” Loki hissed, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a hideous snarl, Thor’s image doubling and then doubling again as his eyes filled with tears. He cried out in his humiliation, and what was intended as a shout of defiance came out instead as a mournful sob.

“Hate me all you like, but this was not my doing,” said Thor. “Sigyn –“

“Don’t say her name!”

“That’s enough! I will silence you if I must,” said Thor, nodding toward a guard standing a short distance away who was holding the muzzle in his hands and nearly trembling with the desire to use it. “Don’t make me do that.”

Loki tried to twist his torso, flexing and bucking in a futile struggle to free his legs, but Thor remained as immovable as a stone. At last, the little remaining energy he had seeped away, leaving him bloodied and tearful and completely defeated.

“Sigyn chose to remain behind,” said Thor the as soon as he felt Loki’s body relax. “As guarantee that we would return.”

“ _We?_ Why would I wish to return to Midgard?”

“The Chitauri – they are gathering their remaining forces to attack Midgard once again. My friends need your help, brother.”

“Let them _die_. I don’t care.” Loki closed his eyes, his tears burning trails down his cheeks.

“Do you care about anything at all?” said Thor, remaining perched upon Loki’s legs.

“Not those detestable creatures from Midgard – creatures that you would call _friends_.” He spat the last word like a curse.

“And Sigyn? Do you care for her?”

Loki opened his eyes to level a murderous glare upon his captor. _You will never **remotely** comprehend the love I hold for her, brother_ was on the tip of his tongue – but with considerable effort, he held it in.

“Obviously you do,” said Thor. “She stayed because she loves you. She wants your freedom – and she believes this may be the quickest way to earn it.”

Loki took a deep breath, forcing his heartbeat to slow and settle before he spoke again. “I will listen to what you have to say, Thor, if only for Sigyn’s sake. But if we return to Midgard and she is dead, know this…the bodies of every man, woman and child on Midgard will feed her funeral pyre.”

* * *

Odin’s voice carried clearly through the heavy doors of his personal chambers as he spoke to Thor.

“You ask me to not only _release_ Loki from prison, but also to restore his powers and allow you to escort him back to _Midgard_?” he asked. “Are you testing a newfound grasp of wit, my son?”

Thor had thought it best to approach the king alone, leaving Loki to sit on a bench in the corridor, his shackles still attached to Mjolnir’s handle. Frigga sat next to him, Ari in her lap.

“Mother, I would not have Ari see me bound this way,” he said, ignoring the continued argument beyond the doors. “Can you not ask the guards to free my hands?”

“And risk you running…or worse? I cannot do that.”

“Then take him away.”

“I will not. There is no better reminder of what you stand to lose than this child.”

Ari popped his fingers from his mouth, gurgling at his father before grinning at him. Loki leaned as close as he could, nuzzling his nose into the softest part of Ari’s cheek, then kissing the top of his head. The thought that Sigyn might never see their child again was enough to make his stomach turn.

“You worry for her.”

“Of _course_ I do,” said Loki, his attempt to keep his voice low causing it to come out more viciously than he intended. “Every moment that passes is another moment her life is in danger.”

“Do you have no faith in her abilities? No faith that she can protect herself?”

“I have no faith that the fates will allow me any sort of happiness,” he responded dryly, pulling uselessly on his chains. “Even for a fleeting instant.”

The voices inside Odin’s chambers had gone quiet, with heavy footsteps approaching the door filling the ensuing silence. Thor came through the doors, looked at his brother, and shook his head.

“Of course,” said Loki, shaking his head and snorting a sharp laugh through his nose. “You were a fool to think you could convince him, Thor.”

“Do not give up hope,” said Frigga, rising from her seat. “I will talk to him.”

“Hope?” said Loki. “What use is hope?” Thor lifted Mjölnir, pulling Loki up with it.

“Think on Sigyn and Ari,” said the queen. “Be strong for them.”

“Whatever strength I possess is for them and them alone, Mother,” said Loki, the chains on his bonds echoing through the halls as Thor led him away.

* * *

Pepper came to Sigyn’s rooms the day after Thor’s departure, bearing several bags of Midgardian clothing.

“I know you didn’t plan on staying this long, and honestly, those dresses you brought can’t be the most comfortable things to live in day after day. I had to guess on your size, but after so many years of handling Tony’s shopping, I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

She laid the clothes out across the bed, rattling off the names of the dressmakers in a way that suggested they were renowned, though they were all unfamiliar to Sigyn.

She spent an hour trying on different outfits, items Pepper described as “sweaters” and “pants” and “flats”, each of them softer and more comfortable than even her best sleeping gown.

“Asgard would do well to adopt these clothing styles,” she said. “I, for one, would appreciate the convenience of breeches being available to more than just the men.”

“Well, I think you are just the woman to bring about a revolution,” said Pepper. “Here, you might like these as well.” She held out a smaller bag.

Sigyn took it from her and emptied it onto the bed; the contents appeared to be no more than tiny scraps of lace. She held one up for inspection.

“Undergarments?” she asked.

“Panties and bras. A little less utilitarian than what you’re used to, maybe, but a lot more attractive.”

Sigyn ran her fingers across the fabric. “My husband will like them,” she said, biting her lip when she realized she’d spoken aloud. “Forgive me, Ms. Potts. You must think me terribly naïve to be entangled with one so dangerous.”

“Lady Aradottir, you’ve met Tony. I am the _last_ person to judge someone on their romantic relationships. And please, just call me Pepper.”

“And you can call me Sigyn. I cannot thank you enough for your kindness and generosity. Had we met under better circumstances, I feel we would have been great friends.”

“Let’s not count that possibility out just yet. There aren’t many women who so intimately understand what it’s like to love a narcissist.”

“Pepper, I feel compelled to tell you something,” said Sigyn with a sigh. “Loki and I…we have only been married for seven days. I understand how that must make me look – foolish beyond measure to commit myself to him after all he’s done. But he…he hasn’t always been the cruel and intolerant man you know. I believe there is still good in him, well hidden perhaps, but still there. I _must_ believe that, for our son’s sake.”

“Well, I only hope for _your_ sake that he proves you right.”

* * *

The next day, Stark himself came to collect her after breakfast, accompanied by Ambassador Bjornson.

“We’re having a meeting this morning, sunshine. There’s gonna be a few people there who might want to meet you.” He looked her over. “You look amazing by the way. Pepper really knows her stuff.”

She had followed him to a large conference room five floors up, dominated by an enormous table enhanced with the latest Midgardian technology. She took a seat at the end next to her tutor, just as various other men and a few women began to file in. Once they were all settled, Stark spoke.

“I know you’ve all been briefed on the situation with the Chitauri. What you haven’t been told is how we plan to combat this threat.

“As you all know, Thor returned to Earth several days ago, along with three Asgardian ambassadors. Two of them are here with us this morning,” he said, pointing their direction. “Radi Bjornson, and Lady Sigyn Aradottir.”

“And where is Thor?” asked a fair-haired man at the end of the table.

“Well, Steve, that’s an excellent question. Thor returned to Asgard to collect a tool we can use against the Chitauri. A giant tool, as it happens.”

“And what, exactly, is this tool?” asked a dark-haired man, twirling glasses in his hands.

“Loki.”

As one, the table erupted into anger and indignant shouts. Sigyn sank back into her chair, trying to ignore the choicest and most vile epithets being attached to her husband.

A voice rang out above the others, this one female. “And exactly how do we plan on compelling that asshole to help us? He would happily kill us all first.”

“Because we have something he wants,” said Stark, shooting a pointed look at Sigyn. “His wife.”

Sigyn was overcome by the silence and stares that greeted this information. She would have welcomed the shouts again, just to feel less scrutinized.

The dark haired man spoke again. “Does that word mean something different on Asgard than it does here?”

“Afraid not, Bruce,” said Stark. “Not only does Loki have a wife, but an infant son as well. Refusal to cooperate would mean he loses both.”

“Loki has a kid?” asked the man Stark had called Steve. He looked at Sigyn. “You were _intimate_ with him?”

Stark answered for her. “It’s kinda what husbands and wives do, Captain Rogers. Maybe one day you’ll find out for yourself.”

“Sorry, Lady Aradottir,” said a redheaded woman across from her. “I dealt with your husband one-on-one. I don’t buy for one second that he wouldn’t be willing to sacrifice _anything_ for his own gain – even you.”

“Natasha –“ Stark began, before Sigyn cut him off.

“It’s alright, Mr. Stark,” she said, her voice much stronger than she was expecting. “I understand everyone’s unwillingness to trust Loki, and having only just met me, I understand the hesitation to place any confidence in me as well. I only ask that you have faith in Thor. He loves this realm too dearly to risk it.”

“Now, we’re not sure when Thor will be able to return,” said Stark, “or even if he’ll be able to bring Loki with him. I’m taking the Quinjet to Alaska tomorrow to wait for them; we don’t want to risk losing our newest weapon before he’s had a chance to fire.

“Before I leave, we’ll begin our preparations for attack. And while I’m gone, I expect our Asgardian guests to be treated with the utmost respect and protection, no matter who they’re married to. I’ve been assured we wouldn’t want to find out what happens if we don’t.”

* * *

If ceaseless pacing could have released Loki from his cell, he would have been long into his freedom.

He barely slept, ate next to nothing, choosing instead to ruminate upon every horrendous torture his wife was likely experiencing on Midgard and the fact that he was as helpless as Ari to prevent any of it. He wanted to claw his eyes out from exasperation.

Thor had deposited him in his cell once more after his failed audience with the king, assuring him that he and their mother would convince Odin to grant him temporary release. That had been three days prior, and Loki had not heard from anyone since. For all he knew, Odin had been so furious with the very suggestion he’d locked his own wife and favorite son away in a distant tower until they could come to their senses.

He thought on what Thor was asking of him. Help the Midgardians? Against an enemy he’d once led himself? The humans’ desperation, something Loki would have once found delightful, was now bitter on his tongue. They had his wife, one of the few beings left in the Nine Realms who held any meaning for him. He would lay his life down for her, and the fact that his brother and those ridiculous “superheroes” of Midgard were using that fact to _control_ him was galling.

He had just lain on the bed, hoping to escape his thoughts with dreamless sleep, when a click on his cell door caught his attention.

“Brother,” said Thor, stepping into the cell. “We must make haste.”

“How did you convince him?” said Loki, approaching Thor warily.

“That isn’t important. Mother?”

Frigga stepped up behind Thor, approaching her youngest son to take his face in her hands. “I cannot remove all the bonds Odin has placed, but I can remove most. You will not be left helpless in this fight.”

“You are going against Odin’s wishes,” said Loki. It wasn’t a question.

Frigga did not respond, instead grasping Loki’s hands in hers and invoking the words to remove the bonds on his powers. At once, Loki could feel the ties on his magic, the internal ropes he’d grown used to after so long, loosen and fall away bit by bit. It gave him a heady rush, the feeling of his power being restored; his eyes rolled back in his head and his legs began to buckle as it flowed over him.

Frigga guided him to his chair and had him sit. A glass of water appeared, and she held it to his lips, his hands shaking too badly to hold it himself.

He could still sense the slightest restrictions on his most powerful magic, almost insignificant but still there. Wanting to test what he _could_ do, he raised his hand up and summoned a flame to his palm. It grew in intensity as he concentrated, the golden glow reflecting in his mother’s eyes as she knelt before him. He smiled, a true smile, unlike any that had graced his features in what felt like ages.

“Thank you, Mother,” he said, elated. He snuffed the fire out, marveling at his unburnt, Aesir hand.

“Loki, I believe you will do what is right, for your son and your wife,” said Frigga, caressing his cheek. “However, you should know we have put a failsafe in place. Should Thor feel that you are… _uncooperative_ …in any way – he needs only recite a simple phrase, and your powers will be removed again. _All_ of them.”

It should have come as no surprise, but this bit of information was still hurtful. “And what guarantee do I have that he will be discriminating in the use of this power?” asked Loki. “That he won’t leave me defenseless on a whim?”

“I would cease to be a disappointment to you, brother,” said Thor. “Just once, think the best of me instead of the worst.”

“Take me to Midgard. Prove to me Sigyn is alive and well…and I will consider it.”

* * *

His normal armor stored away with magic until such time as he would need it, Loki was given new clothes for the journey, all made of hideous shades of brown and ocher to help disguise his identity.

Thor had also tried to convince him to cut his hair as further camouflage, but he had refused; in compromise, he had instead cast an illusion on himself, making his hair appear closely cropped and dark brown rather than black. He wouldn’t be able to fool any facial recognition tools the Midgardians had at their disposal, but his new appearance would certainly attract less attention from any humans they might encounter on the journey to New York.

Heimdall was less than enthusiastic about sending Loki back to Midgard, but the queen’s presence at their departure helped soothe his nerves.

“Gatekeeper,” she said. “Your prodigious gifts of sight are necessary now more than ever. Watch over my sons on Midgard. Ensure their safety _and_ ours…and if you see anything at all that causes you concern, I authorize you to use any means necessary to correct the problem. Whether that means bringing one or both of them back,” she said, nodding toward her sons, “or sending help from Asgard to ensure their victory. I trust you to discern the best course of action when the time comes.”

“I serve you and our realm, Your Majesty,” said Heimdall. “I defer to your command.”

Loki watched her as she stepped farther back into the Observatory, out of the path of the Bifröst. He called to her, just as Heimdall activated the bridge.

“Mother, make certain my son is raised to be the prince he was born to be.”

“Return to him, Loki, along with his mother, and make certain of that yourself.”

“I plan to. But if something _should_ happen…tell Odin-“ He paused, searching for just the right words. “Tell Odin I’ll see him in Hel.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he and Thor were thrust forward into the void before she could say a word.

* * *

An airship was waiting for them in the clearing when they arrived. No sooner had the Bifröst closed than the hatch opened up, Stark rapidly descending the ramp himself.

“Well, well, well – I was really hoping I’d never see you again, you sadistic bastard.”

“Now, now. That’s no way to speak to my brother,” said Loki. “After all he’s done to help you.”

“Haven’t lost your sense of humor, I see.” Stark looked him over. “Though it appears you _have_ lost your sense of style.”

Thor interjected before Loki could reply. “Have you been waiting long?”

“We’ve been camped here for two days – we weren’t sure when you’d be back, but we didn’t want a repeat of the potential disaster when you arrived last time.”

Loki looked to Thor, his brow furrowed. “Potential disaster? What is he talking about?”

“Oh not much,” said Stark. “A couple of random hunters nearly shot your lovely wife, but your big brother managed to save the day. Lucky you.”

Loki gritted his teeth, shooting a glare at Thor that promised they would have words later. “Lucky me, indeed.”

“Now come on, you two,” said Stark, waving his hand toward the interior of the ship. “I’m ready to get home.”

The ship began to rise before they had even taken their seats. Loki and Thor sat next to one another, while Tony settled in across from them.

“Is Sigyn safe, Stark?” asked Loki. “For your sake, I hope the answer is yes.”

“She’s perfectly safe, unharmed in any way,” said Stark, raising his hands in a gesture meant to pacify. “She’s actually enjoying her time here on Earth, despite your best efforts to eradicate us.”

“She’s always had a soft heart for those least deserving.” He meant it as an insult, but he realized too late that he could just as easily have been talking of himself.

“Hmmmm, evidently she does. I gotta say, you could have knocked me over with a feather when we discovered that _you_ – of all people – have a _wife_. She’s beautiful, cultured, _smart_ – well, if you overlook her choice of husband. Did you win her in a bet?”

Loki wanted to wipe the smug grin off of Stark’s face, preferably with his fists, but he refrained. “Would you like to know my secret?” he asked instead, smiling innocently and leaning forward in his seat for a conspiratorial whisper. “She stays with me, you imbecile, because my royal endowment is so… _substantial_.” He sat back in his seat, all traces of humor gone from his face.

Stark merely laughed. “Well, I knew it couldn’t be your winning personality.”

“Let us save the barbs for later, both of you,” said Thor, his tone that of a parent dealing with unruly children. “You can go back to hating one other once this threat has been eliminated.”

* * *

Sigyn and Radi were sitting in the common area of their living quarters, going over a textbook about the history of Native Americans, when the elevator door opened.

She jumped from the couch as soon as she saw the flash of Thor’s armor. She glanced over his companions, recognizing Stark but not the other man until he spoke.

“Sigyn?”

 She was struck dumb, nearly tripping over a table in her effort to get to her husband. He met her halfway, lifting her up effortlessly as she threw her arms around his neck. She buried her face into his shoulder, breathing him in as though her very life depended on it. “Loki,” she said when she found her voice. “I was so…so worried…”

“I’m here now,” he said as he held her up, not loosening his grip in the slightest as he marched down the hallway. “Which one is your room?”

She lifted her head just long enough to point at the correct door. Glancing back over Loki’s shoulder, she could hear Stark speaking to Thor. “Damn. It’s like I’ve been waiting for a punchline, and no one’s told a joke. Unbelievable.”

She barely had time to mouth the words _thank you_ to Thor, before they were in her room, Loki kicking the door shut with such force she was sure they would never be able to open it again – not that she cared. She had her husband back, and in that moment nothing else mattered.

She raised her head, kissing him with as much vigor as she could muster, dimly aware that he was setting her down. It wasn’t until her lips parted from his that she felt him gripping her arms and pushing her away, gently but firmly.

“What? What’s the matter?” she asked, bewildered.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“What? Yes, I suppose. Why?”

“Because you and I are leaving this building, this city, this realm,” said Loki. “Together. _Right now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments, kudos, and bookmarks are greatly appreciated! :)


	33. Bonus: Character Questionnaire - Loki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the companion Character Questionnaire for Loki (to match the one I did for Sigyn). Answering these questions for Loki was way harder than I expected, for many reasons (not the least of which is that there are so many appropriate answers for a number of them). The answers I’ve settled on can really only be said to be true for my version of Loki within the context of Illusion. Your mileage may vary. ;)
> 
> Also – someone left a review for me recently (on another site) that was one of the most heartfelt and detailed I have ever received, touching on some of the characteristics of Sigyn and Loki that I’ve really tried hard to capture – namely, Sigyn’s individuality as a person (despite her desire and love for Loki), and Loki himself being a prince, not a terribly abused/neglected/innocent naïf. I dislike that kind of characterization of him almost as much as his far too common portrayal as a bloodthirsty-for-the-sake-of-being-evil-psychopath. He’s neither, and that’s what makes him so much fun (and exasperating). ;)

**Character Name:** Loki ~~Odinson~~. ~~Laufeyson~~? Um, let’s just go with _Loki_.

**Age:** The Midgardian equivalent of between 28 and 32 years old.

**Appearance:** Tall and lean. Handsome in a way many would consider nearly feminine. Thin lips. High cheekbones. Patrician nose. In his Aesir form he has pale, almost translucent skin, and enormous green eyes, the color of a meadow in springtime. In his jotun form, he has bright blue skin, symmetrical ridges that cover his entire body (yes, even _there_ ), and crimson eyes. No matter his form, his hair is as black as his soul.  

**1\. What do you know about this character now that s/he doesn’t yet know?**    That the fates will have some measure of comeuppance in the matter of his long-term happiness. [And _wow_ , that sounds way more ominous than I intended.]

**2\. What is this character’s greatest flaw?**   Hmmmmmm – where do we start? ;) Probably his complete unwillingness to concede to _having_ any flaws.  

**3.  What do you know about this character that s/he would never admit?**      He admires and respects his big brother way more than he would ever let on.

**4.  What is this character’s greatest asset?**  The intelligence and cunning of a chess grand master. Also, the ability to rock black leather like nobody’s business.

**5.  If this character could choose a different identity, who would s/he be?**     THOR. THORTHORTHORTHORTHOR.

**6.  What music does this character sing to when no one else is around?**     There is a song his mother used to sing to him as a child that plays in his head in times of stress. He doesn’t like to sing it out loud, especially when others might hear (though you can probably catch him singing it to Ari, if you can get close enough). Those few that have had the pleasure of hearing him sing, however, would say he has a soothing, melodious voice.

**7.  In what or whom does this character have the greatest faith?**     He has the greatest faith in _himself_ – that he will extricate himself from the worst situations through sheer intelligence and willpower alone.

**8.  What is this character’s favorite movie?**    If he had access to movies, I think he would certainly gravitate to those of victorious underdogs and revenge. Though, I don’t think he would be much fun to watch movies with particularly – he would spend the entire time quite vocally picking apart plot holes, poor character development, and moments that require too much suspension of disbelief.

**9.  Does this character have a favorite article of clothing?  Favorite shoes?**  Sigyn’s undergarments, crumpled and discarded on the floor of his bedchamber. ;) For himself, anything black and menacing will do. His favorite shoes are his tall black boots – perfect for the conquering and subjugation of lesser beings.

**10.  Does this character have a vice?  Name it.**  Pride. Envy. Wrath. He is the walking embodiment of mischief and mayhem. I think the better question would be to ask if he has any _virtues_. ;)

**11.  Name this character’s favorite person (living or dead).** **Most of his life, his answer would have been either his mother, or his big brother Thor (even if he has always harbored an unhealthy amount of jealousy toward him). Now, he would add his wife Sigyn and their son Ari.**

**12.  What is this character’s secret wish?**     His secret wish is that he could separate his happiness from Odin’s approval.

**13.  What is this character’s proudest achievement?**     Even though he wasn’t planned (and Loki’s first reaction upon learning of his existence was less than pleasant), he would say his son Ari is his proudest achievement.

**14.  Describe this character’s most embarrassing moment.**  As an adult, being dragged home in chains and a muzzle after being defeated on Midgard by The Avengers. (As a youth, his most embarrassing moment was when Thor accidentally walked in on him masturbating, and proceeded to tell all their friends. In revenge, Loki placed an enchantment on Thor that caused his hand to become stuck the next time he touched himself. Thor remained confined to his rooms until Frigga forced Loki to remove the spell, and Loki learned very quickly to lock the doors to his chambers when he needed time alone.)

**15.  Describe this character’s most devastating moment.**  Discovering the truth about his heritage – the fact that he is not truly Odin and Frigga’s Aesir son, but rather a jotun runt abandoned as an infant, left to die but rescued by Odin and brought to Asgard, his true nature hidden by an enchantment he generates upon himself.

**16.  What is this character’s greatest fear?**     Appearing weak. Being forgotten. Also, that no matter how hard he tries, he will never be “good” enough to warrant Sigyn’s continued love and support.

**17.  What is this character’s deepest regret?**     He regrets any actions he’s taken that have hurt his mother or Sigyn – but he will _never_ voice those regrets, for fear they make him appear weak (see #16).

**18.  What is this character’s greatest achievement?**    His continued survival against all odds. Also, convincing the mother of his child to marry him in a disgusting prison cell.

**19.  What is this character’s greatest hope?**     That he will be able to earn his freedom and make a life with Sigyn and their son.

**20.  Does this character have an obsession?  Name it.**  Odin’s respect and approval. Even now, after all he’s done – if Odin were to show him any kind of kindness or pride in him (and though Loki would feign absolute indifference if he did), Loki would hoard that moment like a precious jewel. [On a slightly less serious note, Loki is also obsessed with the noises Sigyn makes in the bedroom. She has a proclivity toward being quite vocal during sex, belying her more conservative public persona. The fact that he alone can bring about those reactions in her amuses and arouses him like nothing else.]

**21.  What is this character’s greatest disappointment?**     That he was not present for Sigyn’s pregnancy or the birth of their son.

**22.  What is this character’s worst nightmare?**     Injury or death befalling those he loves most dearly (Frigga, Thor, Sigyn, or Ari).

**23.  Whom does this character most wish to please?  And why?**   His entire life, the answer would have been his father. For Loki, pleasing Odin was like attempting to climb a mountain, only to find Thor had beaten him to the summit every time. While he would still secretly like to please Odin (though Loki would _never_ admit to it), it is becoming a far less essential part of his life. He is now finding great satisfaction in pleasing Sigyn, even if he is painfully aware that he has failed to do so far too often.

**24.  Describe this character’s mother.**  Frigga, Queen of Asgard. Adores both of her children, but has an especially strong relationship with Loki. Recognized Loki’s innate gifts and sensitivities even in his infancy, and has taken great pains to nurture him in ways Odin never could. Knew within a week of Sigyn’s appointment as her handmaiden that she would play an integral part in Loki’s life – though it took _him_ much longer to accept it.

**25.  Describe this character’s father.**  Odin Allfather, King of Asgard and ruler of the Nine Realms. Battle-hardened and emotionally unforgiving, he has never had an easy time bonding with the son he rescued from Jotunheim – finding it far easier to communicate with his older son and heir Thor, who is exactly like him in every way Odin finds essential. In their warrior culture, Odin finds Loki’s penchant for cunning and strategy admirable but less worthy of praise than Thor’s ability to smash things with Mjölnir. If we were to plumb the deepest parts of Odin’s mind, we would find that he’s never fully trusted Loki, simply because of his jotun heritage.

**26.  If s/he had to choose, with whom would this character prefer to live?**  With Sigyn and Ari, as far away from the Asgardian dungeons as he could get.

**27.  Where does this character fall in birth order?  What effect does this have?**  He is the younger of two sons, both of them princes of Asgard, the most powerful of the Nine Realms. Has lived in the shadow of his universally loved older brother, and has been made to feel (intentionally or unintentionally) inferior in every way. This, along with his own superiority complex, has caused nothing but grief and heartache for him.

**28.  Describe this character’s siblings or other close relatives.**  One brother – Thor Odinson, heir to the throne of Asgard. The epitome of the “golden son”, he is adored and praised by (almost) everyone in Asgard. The very definition of a warrior in a culture that holds them higher than all else. Honorable, impetuous , honest to a fault, charismatic, physically imposing and ruggedly handsome – he is the ultimate embodiment of what it means to be an Aesir…and Loki’s opposite in every way.

**29.  Describe this character’s bedroom.  Describe three cherished items.**  Before prison, his bedchambers were large, spacious, and opulent, as befitting a prince of the realm (roughly described in Chapter Nine). Three cherished items would include his library of books (he would consider that one item), his stuffed rabbit Skoppa from when he was a child (that he continues to keep hidden from everyone), and the hairpins he took from Sigyn the night of his mother’s birthday celebration.

**30.  What is this character’s birth date?  How does this character manifest traits of his/her astrological sign?**  He isn’t from Earth, so this doesn’t apply; but the stereotypical traits of the astrological sign Scorpio – passionate, magnetic, jealous, resentful, exciting – fit him perfectly.

**31\. If this character had to live in seclusion for six months, what six items would s/he bring?**    He’s experiencing this right now, but not by choice. If he were to have more control over his current situation and choose to live in isolation, he would take the following: the braid of Sigyn’s hair, a small portrait of Ari, and four of his favorite books.

**32.  Why is this character angry?**     Too many reasons to list here – but chief amongst them would be the fact that his “parents” lied to him his entire life about his true nature, along with the fact that he’s always felt second-best to Thor in every way.

**33.  What calms this character?**  Reading. Studying magic. Watching Ari sleep. Sigyn running her fingers through his hair or gently scratching his back –preferably in their bed and naked.

**34.  Describe a recurring dream or nightmare this character might have.**     That he is still on that desolate planet with The Other and the Chitauri – chained to a rock, tortured, starving, and weak.

**35.  List the choices (not circumstances) that led your character to his/her current predicament.**     Terrible Choice #1 – thwarting Thor’s coronation by arranging for a party of jotuns to attack Asgard. A seemingly endless variety of increasingly desperate and terrible choices have been made as a direct result of this (see: the entire plots of Thor and The Avengers). Loki is an expert at making terrible decisions that he feels are completely justified, and then blaming others when everything goes to shit.

**36.  List the circumstances over which this character has no control.**  The fact that he is a Jotun by birth, not Aesir. The admiration and love heaped upon his brother Thor. Sigyn’s continued insistence on asserting her autonomy by making decisions independent of his wishes.

**37.  What wakes this character in the middle of the night?**     A yearning for his wife that is almost crippling in its severity.

**38.  How would a stranger describe this character?**    Aloof. Intimidating. Charming and magnetic. Contradictory. Enigmatic. Harshly beautiful.

**39.  What does this character resolve to do differently every morning?**     He resolves to not let his envy and bitterness control so much of his life – something he is very rarely successful at achieving.

**40.  Who depends on this character?  Why?**  Thor, for his calculation and cunning intelligence. Frigga, for his company and devotion to her. Sigyn, because he is the father of her child and her one true love, the man who has irrevocably claimed her heart, her body, and her soul.

**41.  If this character knew s/he had exactly one month to live, what would she do?**  He would want to cause as much mayhem and chaos in the Nine Realms as possible, while also ensuring Sigyn is forever ruined for other men by ravaging her in as many ways and in as many locations as she would allow. He would probably just settle for the latter, however – while simultaneously searching for any means of survival and writing letters to Ari detailing why he should never trust Odin ever.

**42.  How would a dear friend or relative describe this character?**  Thor would describe him as such: Terrifyingly intelligent. Too clever by half. Their mother’s favorite. More untrustworthy than he’d like him to be, but a vital part of his life. Sigyn would describe him as: Cruel when it isn’t warranted. Envious and emotional. Full of potential but dead set on making terrible decisions. Devastatingly handsome. Completely irresistible. Fantastic in bed. Capable of displaying an incredible amount of tenderness and love, but only in private. The greatest love of her life.

**43.  What is the character’s most noticeable physical attribute?**     His face. Elements that taken separately should not work – too-large eyes, a prominent nose, thin lips, and sharp cheekbones – but when put together combine into a strangely alluring package, at once earnest and forbidding. More beautiful than handsome.

**44.  What is this character hiding from him/herself?**  That he still cares what Odin thinks of him.

**45.  Write one additional thing about your character.**  When he was first learning to summon knives with his magic, he accidentally clipped his upper lip in a rare moment of clumsiness. As with most of his scars, instead of eradicating it with a healing spell, he keeps it to remind him of how far his skills have come.


	34. Chapter 32

“We’re leaving? But you’ve only just arrived.”

Loki kept his grip on Sigyn’s shoulders, his mind warring between the yearning to clutch her to him and wanting to shake her until she grasped the urgency of their situation. “Yes…and now that I know you’re safe, we can leave.”

“I don’t understand. Have you helped them? Did you give them what they wanted?”

“That isn’t important –“

“It _is_ important!” She raised her forearms, sweeping them out and pushing his hands away, her face livid. “That’s why you’re here!”

“No – I’m here for _you_.” He pointed at the door, trying to keep his voice low. “Thor and every last one of his friends can _rot_.”

She stepped back from him, shaking her head. “I’m not leaving.”

“ _What?_ Is this not what you wanted? My freedom?”

“Of course –“

“Well you have it!”

“Do I?” she said, looking at him as though he was the stupidest man in the Nine Realms. “So, you and I could walk out of this room together and leave unimpeded, with no consequences?”

“My magic has been restored, enough that I could use it to transport the two of us safely outside from right here. But the longer we wait, the less likely it is I could even manage that.”

“And in doing so, you would ruin everything I’ve worked so hard to accomplish. This isn’t just about you and your desires, Loki. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life running.”

“I can protect us!” he said, moving toward her. Why wouldn’t she just listen? No one would be expecting them to leave the bedroom for some time – if they escaped now, they could be far away before anyone realized they were missing.

He tried to grab her, but she ducked under his outstretched arms and sat hard on the end of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest. “I said, I’m _not_ leaving.”

He ran his hands over his head in exasperation, his long hair reappearing as he ruined the illusion he’d cast on himself. He cursed under his breath; nothing was going right, nothing at all. They could be halfway to anywhere by now, and yet Sigyn remained as stubborn as ever.  

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he tried a different tack. “Sigyn, please. Why stay for them?”

“I’m not staying for _them_ , you inflexible ass –“

“You dare call _me_ inflexible, as you sit there, utterly immovable –“

“Enough!” she shouted, her boldness shocking him into silence. “I’m staying because if we leave now, we will never see our son again…” The last was nearly unintelligible as she hung her head and began to sob, a steady trickle of tears falling onto the strange Midgardian breeches she was wearing. They soaked into the fabric, each drop spreading through the material like blood in water.

“Sigyn –“

“No,” she said, raising red-rimmed eyes to his. “You need to listen for once.” Her voice was small but tempered with more anger than he’d ever thought her capable of producing. The one thing he’d always counted on – Sigyn’s seemingly endless patience – had run out. He was rooted to the spot, off-kilter and unsettled.

“After Ari was born, when the healer placed him in my arms for the first time, he was so tiny and frail and absolutely helpless.” Her face softened with the memory, and Loki was once again left to grieve how much he’d missed. “We had no one but each other – and I made a vow to him that I would never allow _anyone_ to take him from me. And I meant it, Loki. No one will take him from me – not even you.”

He crossed the room, standing over her and lifting her head to his. “They cannot keep him from us –“

“You’re wrong, Loki –“

“I’m not wrong! I will fight until my last breath to be reunited with him.”

“Then you will do it without me. _Please_ …it doesn’t need to be this way.”

He sighed, a deep, defeated sound. “How can you be so certain?”

“I have no choice. I must be certain, or risk madness.”

“They only wish to use us for their benefit, Sigyn. _Everyone_ – not just Thor and Stark and these Midgardians, but Asgard as well. How can you not see that?”

“And I wish to use them for ours. Your freedom, genuine and permanent, not _this_ …whatever this -”

Loud music suddenly filled the room, cutting her off – the lyrics a strange sort of whispering.

_“Get up get up get up get up…wake up wake up wake up wake up…”_

“What is that?” he asked, walking to the center of the room, searching for the source of the interruption.

“It’s some sort of Midgardian technology Stark uses,” said Sigyn, pointing to a circular recess in the ceiling. “He plays music to awaken us in the mornings.”

_“Baaaaaby…I’m hot just like an oven…I need some lovin’…”_

“ _This_ is the song he plays?”

“No, this is a new one. I’m not sure why it’s playing right now –“

_“And when I get that feelin’, I want sexual healin’…”_

Sigyn’s eyes went wide as the meaning of the song became clear. “ _Oh_.Loki – I think he’s playing this for _us_.”

She laughed then, full and throaty, and Loki wanted to clamp his mouth over hers and swallow her laughter down until he suffocated in it. “I don’t see how this is funny, Sigyn.”

“Do you not, love?” she said, wiping away a tear. “Here we are, alone together for the first time in nearly two years, in a _bedroom_ no less…and you want to _fight_ with me?”  

“No,” he said, conjuring a small knife into his hand and flinging it up into the recess. Sparks flew as it hit its mark, and the room grew quiet at once. “I don’t want to fight.”

Sigyn reached for him and took his hands in hers, pulling him down to his knees before her. “Then…let’s not.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, her touch so gentle he nearly purred. “You frightened me, you know. I thought you’d actually cut it. And these clothes are repulsive.”

“I thought it better to hide in plain sight. My reputation precedes me here; arriving in black leather and metal might have caused a stir.”

“Well in this room, we are not a mother or father, not a brother or sister or daughter or son. Not an ambassador for _peace_ ,” she placed her hand on her chest, “or for _war_ ,” she finished, touching him. “Right now, we are only a man and a woman, a husband and wife – and I for one have waited long enough for my wedding night.”

“And you would have it here, in the home of my enemy? Within earshot of those who wish me harm?”

“I’ll admit it’s not ideal. But when has anything between us been ideal?” She pulled him close, kissing him softly, her lips tasting of tears. “Let them listen,” she said as she pulled back. “Let them hear my love for you, and weep for what they can never have.”

 _What I nearly lost_ , he thought, moving back into her, his unhurried kisses in sharp contrast to the blood boiling just beneath his skin.

He made no attempt to stop her as she moved beneath his tunic, unlacing and loosening the front of his breeches just enough to accommodate her hand. Her warm fingers slid around him, stroking him with assurance, and before he could even pull his mouth away from hers to tell her to _stop_ – he reached his completion with a half-shouted curse and heavy groan, trembling with such force he nearly bit his tongue. Her hand never stopped its gentle movements, guiding him through his fog of bliss and back into reality.

“Forgive me,” he said, as soon as he had the breath to speak. “It’s been far too long.” He waved a hand over his lap, and the mess he’d created vanished.

“There is nothing to forgive, love,” said Sigyn. “Though I do hope we’re not finished.”

“No,” he said, standing and pulling her up with him. “Not even close.”

Hands busied themselves between fervent kisses, layers of clothing removed and discarded before they collapsed back onto the bed, nothing between them but the tiny scrap of fabric that passed for Midgardian undergarments Sigyn was wearing.

“These are so strange,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow to lean over her and trace the edge of lace across her hipbone. “I’ve seen a doll’s sock with more substance than this.”  

“ _Panties_ …that’s what Pepper called them.”

“And you are on a first name basis with Stark’s companion now?”

“She’s my friend, Loki,” she said, reaching up to kiss the edge of his chin. “It’s nice to have one, you know. You should look into it.”

“I don’t need friends, Sigyn. I have you.” Without warning, he curled his fingers into the fabric and ripped it away, throwing the ruined garment to the floor.

Sigyn gasped in indignation. “Those were a _gift_!”

“They were in the way,” he said, pushing her knee out to the side before gliding his hand down the inside of her thigh. He teased his fingers across her center, stopping short of pressing them into her.

“Has another hand touched you here, in my absence?”

She shook her head, her breath shallow. “Not unless… _ah_ …not unless you count my own…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Hmmmmm. Serviceable, but a poor substitute.”

She bit into her lower lip, her hips canting up into his hand, wordlessly begging for him to do _something_ …but he kept his hand still, soaking in her radiant heat. He had nearly forgotten just how beautiful she was in this wanton state of arousal; he had her right where he wanted her after so long, and he was going to savor every moment.

He leaned in, pressing his open mouth to hers, slipping his tongue between her teeth just as he breached her with first one and then two fingers. She whimpered into his mouth, and his cock sprang to life once more against her thigh, a primal acknowledgement of his unappeasable craving for her.

“I need to taste you,” he said as he broke from her, kissing his way down to where his hand had joined her body. He lifted her leg up over his shoulder, drawing his fingers out just long enough to open her completely before dragging his tongue across her slick skin. She arched up off the mattress as he set his mouth to her with purpose, forcing him to put his arm across her belly to keep her still.

In no time at all she was caught in exquisite tension, hands fisted into the sheets, eyes closed and every muscle as taut as a bowstring as she sought her relief. The heel of her foot dug painfully into his back, her thigh clenching over his shoulder with each thrust of his hand, but he was undeterred in his pursuit to make her fall apart. And oh, the _noises_ she was making – exactly as he remembered, but somehow amplified for how long he’d gone without hearing them. And _then_ , that hitch in her breath that signaled just how close she was, a sound Loki would never tire of, and with one last push of his fingers and brush of his tongue her rigid form went completely limp, one word repeated from her mouth between gasping breaths. _Loki, Loki, Loki…_

Her breath hadn’t even settled when her eyes flew open, the desire in them not quenched at all but rather _intensified_ , and all at once Loki found himself pushed onto his back, Sigyn straddling him. She reached between them and with a complete lack of delicacy, grasped his length – now nearly painful from pleasuring her – and slid down onto him with a sharp breath and a grimace. She stopped only when he was fully seated in her, her eyes screwed shut and her hands braced on either side of his head.

He took her by the wrists, setting them around his neck as he sat up slowly, his arms around her waist to hold her in place. “Are you hurt?”

She rested her forehead on his shoulder, and he could feel her nod in silent answer. “I have missed you….missed _this_ terribly, but my body has forgotten.”

“Then allow me to remind it,” he said, kissing across her shoulder and grazing his teeth across her collarbone. “And ensure it never forgets again.”

* * *

It was still dark when Sigyn stirred to wakefulness, her hands scrabbling blindly for Loki and finding only the faintest trace of warmth on his side of the bed. He’d left after all, not even bothering to say goodbye.

Her face flushed in anger, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, but before they could fall a soft sigh across the room caused her to sit quickly, spinning in the sheets.

She found her husband standing in front of the window, still completely nude and unashamed, his form silhouetted in the soft glow of the lights of the city. She glanced over his figure – his muscular shoulders, his narrow hips, the perfect curve of his backside leading into his long, powerful legs – and she wondered, as she had so many times before, how _anyone_ could mistake him for weak. She was currently sporting countless aches – both external and internal – as proof of how foolish it was to underestimate his physical strength.  

“Did you think I’d gone?” he asked, keeping his back to her.

She rose from the bed on legs gone shaky with relief, padding across the room to mold herself to his back and slip her arms around him. “Are you talking to me…or to everyone out there?”

He chuckled lightly. “I don’t know,” he said, interlacing his fingers with hers across his chest. “Both, probably.”

She rested her cheek on his back, his voice resonating through her as he spoke again.

“I could have ruled this realm. I would have returned for you…made you a _queen_.”

“I never wanted a kingdom.”

“But you deserve one, after all you’ve done.”

“None of us _deserve_ anything, good or bad, Loki. We take what fate bestows upon us, and we decide whether to let our circumstances rule us, or to rule our circumstances.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is, if you choose for it to be.”

It was just light enough that Sigyn could make out several scratches across his shoulders where she had marked him in their passion. She pulled a hand back and traced a finger over a particularly deep furrow, and he shuddered.

“You could heal these easily. Why haven’t you?” she asked, planting kisses along the torn flesh.

“So they serve as a reminder. I want to feel them with every movement, to keep me focused on why I’m here.” He spun around in her arms, taking her head in his hands, and she was stunned to see half-dried tears on his cheeks. “I’ve hurt you enough, both deliberately and inadvertently. I would do better by you. And by Ari.”

“That is my greatest wish, Loki. For us to be a family.”

“My mother brought me to see him, after you and Thor left. I spent hours in her garden with him. Sigyn, he is…he is…” His voice trailed off.

“I know,” she said. “There aren’t words.”

Loki’s nostrils flared and he swallowed hard, but with effort he remained composed. “He called me ‘Papa’.”

Sigyn’s heart skipped a beat. “Did he? Oh, that makes me so happy.”

“He has your smile,” he said, running his thumb across her cheek, his eyes distant. He took a deep breath, and with a shake of his head he snapped back to the present, dipping his head to hers and kissing the corner of her mouth. “Could you bear it once more?” he asked, whispering the words into her skin.

“Could I bear what?”

“Another child. I cannot get back the time I’ve lost, the moments I’ve missed. I want to be there from the beginning at least once.” He didn’t raise his eyes to her, and she could feel the stiff way he held himself, his apprehension, his fear she would reject the idea.

“Get us through this predicament, and I will give you as many children as you want, my love,” she said, leaning back to look him in the eye. “But…in time. We’ve gone about this all backwards. I would enjoy what we have now for a little longer first.” Her heart fell with sudden awareness. “Oh, Loki…I don’t have any…we’ve taken no precautions…”

He placed his hand just above her hips, narrowing his eyes in concentration, and heat spread into her through his palm. “There,” he said after a moment, as the warmth began to fade. “That gives us at least a month. But there’s really only one way to be certain it worked.”

“How’s that –“ she started, yelping as he swept her up into his arms to carry her back to bed.

“By testing it, of course. _Repeatedly_.”

* * *

Loki was watching Sigyn as she dressed the next morning, her hair still damp from their shared shower, when there was a knock on the door. He answered it expecting Thor, surprised to find Stark in the hallway instead.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” asked Stark, his smile as arrogant as ever.

“Our distinguished host comes to collect us himself. What an honor.”

“I would normally just use the intercom to wake you up,” he said, glancing up to the ceiling to find Loki’s knife still buried in it, “but you seem to be having problems with your speaker.”

“Oh, that. It began playing music without prompting.”

“Really? How odd.”

“As we were too occupied to bother you, I took care of it myself.”

“Trust me, this entire floor knows just how occupied you were. Guess the music helped, huh?” Stark stepped into the room without being asked, making a show of taking in Loki’s appearance. “Dare I say it, but you’re practically glowing this morning. Even your hair’s different. Does sex make it grow or something?”

“Would that explain why yours remains so short?”

Sigyn stepped between them before the other man could reply, pinning her hair up and out of the way. “Good morning Mr. Stark. We were just about to head down to breakfast.”

“You must be starving, sunshine, having missed dinner last night. I have to admit, the way this guy carried you off like a spoil of war had me a little concerned for your safety.”

“As you can see, your worries were unfounded.”

“Oh, yes. Fortunately for me, my wife is quite durable,” said Loki, earning him a look of admonishment from her even as she blushed crimson.

“How much of a bonus am I going to need to pay my housekeeper to clean up in here?” asked Stark, sweeping through the room. “Do I need to give her a hazmat suit to set foot through the door?”

“A hazmat suit?” asked Loki.

“You know what; I’ll give her one, just to be on the safe side. Now come on – we’ve got lots to do today, and we don’t want to start without you.”

They went straight to the large meeting room Sigyn had described to him, only to find they were the last ones to arrive. Every head in the room turned as they walked in, the looks thrown their way ranging from morbid curiosity to outright loathing. Loki kept his hand on the small of Sigyn’s back as a show of solidarity, noting with pride how her spine remained straight, even under the watchful eye of the room’s occupants.

They settled into two unoccupied chairs at the end of the table, just between a small podium and Thor. Loki leaned over toward his brother, speaking to him under his breath. “I do hope we didn’t disturb your sleep last night.”

“My accommodations are at the end of the hall,” said Thor, keeping his voice low. “Perhaps it is Ambassador Bjornson you should apologize to, as his rooms share a wall with yours.”

Loki looked across the table to see Bjornson himself looking at Sigyn with some sort of paternal horror, dark circles under his eyes indicating just how little rest he’d received the night before. “Or perhaps he would like to change rooms,” said Loki. “I’ve no plans to restrict my nocturnal habits for his comfort.”

“Now that we’re all here,” said Stark, standing at the head of the table, “we can begin. Ms. Foster?” He pointed to a woman sitting on the other side of Thor.

Loki had expected Jane Foster to be larger than life – almost legendary in proportions to have affected his brother so deeply – yet he was stunned by how tiny she was. She was barely larger than a child; but as she stood she carried herself with a confidence even Loki could appreciate. She stepped up to the podium.

“I won’t waste anyone’s time here this morning, as _time_ is something we have far less of than we thought. Readings we picked up overnight indicate the Chitauri are much closer than we feared.”

“How _much_ closer?” asked Thor.

“Five days, tops. Maybe less.”

The room broke out into whispered murmurs and panicked questions. Stark raised his hands, trying to regain everyone’s attention.

“Not the best news, I know, but as you can see,” he pointed at Loki, “Thor has come through and brought us the help he promised.”

“And just how much help is he going to be?” asked a man across from Loki, the one he remembered as Captain America. “You already gave him what he wanted,” he continued, thrusting his chin toward Sigyn.

“And yet, I’m still here, am I not?” asked Loki, looking to Sigyn one last time. She reached for him, squeezing his hand in hers and mouthing one word - _Please._

He nodded, keeping his eyes on her. “I will do what I can – whatever it takes – to help.” He turned to the rest of the room. “Here’s what I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can never express enough gratitude for all the bookmarks, kudos, and comments I receive. This has been nearly a year's worth of a labor of love for me - I've come so far, and yet I know I will never stop learning and trying to improve.
> 
> After this chapter, however, I will be taking a very short hiatus (no longer than mid-January). My family understandably wants my attention this time of year, and I also need to step back and take a mental break for myself. Rest assured, I have no plans of abandoning this story now - I will return, hopefully rested and ready to knock the ending out of the park. 
> 
> In the meantime - if you can, follow me on Tumblr at asgardianruminations. I will be posting a one-shot with (super fluffy and happy) Loki and Sigyn there that a dear friend prompted me, probably before the end of the year. :)


	35. Chapter 33

“These creatures, the Chitauri,” said Loki, “they are but a small part of a much larger plan…a plan far beyond the scope of what you have seen before.”

Captain Rogers spoke up at this. “You mean to tell me they’re working for someone even _worse_?”

“Much worse.”

“And who exactly is this mystery enemy?” asked the woman Sigyn remembered as Natasha. Loki had mentioned once that she had been a formidable opponent in his former plans, and the look she was giving him spoke to the truth of his words.

“I was never told his identity,” said Loki. “Only that he doesn’t _fear_ death…but rather courts it like a mistress. That’s not someone who would give much thought to eradicating your entire realm in pursuit of what he wants.”

“And what exactly does he want?” asked Stark.

“He wants the Tesseract.”

“The Tesseract? You mean the Tesseract we sent back to Asgard with you and your brother?”

“The very same.”

Captain Rogers spoke up once again. “So why are they coming here, if we no longer have what they want?”

“There’s no way for them to know it isn’t here, _Captain_ ,” said Loki, his voice laced with sarcasm at the title. “The portal was closed before all the Chitauri forces could come through. As far as they know, the Tesseract is still here on Midgard, just waiting to be retrieved.”

“Any chance we could send them a message, telling them otherwise?” asked Natasha.

“You could, but I doubt it would deter them,” said Loki. “If they are as close as Dr. Foster insists they are, then they will want to be sure for themselves before taking the bad news back to their master.”

From there, the conversation devolved into bickering and cross words and sniping at each other across the table, almost all of it directed at Loki. Sigyn could see his annoyance at the situation held in check just below the surface, the slight clenching of his jaw or wrinkling of his nose when subjected to a particularly vile accusation. She had warned him, however, that he would be sent to share Thor’s accommodations if the meeting didn’t go well – a threat he seemed to be taking seriously enough to warrant his continued, albeit reluctant, cooperation.

Sigyn chose to observe more than contribute, noting the Midgardians’ tendencies to just speak louder and longer when they wanted to be heard, even when what they had to say was inaccurate or repetitive. It was a habit Thor had once shared with them, but to Sigyn’s surprise, he was one of the most rational of all the participants. Recent events had taken their toll on the Asgardian crown prince, tempering his once brash behavior into something much more becoming of his birthright.

Sigyn couldn’t help but feel that perhaps he had learned a thing or two from her, having spent so much time with her during her pregnancy and diplomacy lessons. At one point, she almost leaned over to compliment him, but thought better of it, wisely considering her husband’s temperament. The last thing Loki would want to hear was a kind word for his brother, especially considering the vitriol being thrown his own way.

After hours of frustration, the first thing the entire group agreed upon was breaking for lunch and regrouping after, with Jane Foster leaving to gather more information for their afternoon session.

“Forgive me, Sigyn,” said Thor as everyone disbursed. “I need to speak to my brother for a moment.” He pulled Loki aside before he could object.

Ambassador Bjornson approached Sigyn the moment she was alone. “Walk with me?”

Sigyn took his outstretched arm with a nod and allowed him to lead her away from the group.

“Radi, I feel like I should apologize. Last night, we…well _I_ wasn’t thinking –“

He stopped her with a nervous laugh. “No need to apologize. That isn’t what I wanted to discuss.”

Sigyn tried not to make her sigh of relief too obvious. Since beginning her tutelage under him, Bjornson had become like a surrogate father to her; the thought of what he had been subjected to hearing the night before made her cringe in mortification. 

“As it happens, my… _sleeplessness_ …gave me the opportunity to talk with Thor last night. We agreed that you and I should return to Asgard as soon as possible. I’m certain that’s what he’s discussing with Loki,” he said, nodding to where the two princes of Asgard were caught in a heated discussion, the scowl on Loki’s face becoming more pronounced with each passing moment.

Sigyn noted that Loki had placed himself in a position that allowed him to face the rest of the room. Even as he talked to Thor, his gaze would flicker to her constantly, tracking her every move as closely as a hawk; as she and Radi stopped at a table at the back of the room, the elder ambassador took care to keep her in Loki’s sights.

“You know, Sigyn, it’s quite obvious to me – and likely everyone in this room – that Loki loves you dearly.”

“How? He’s not exactly one for demonstrative public affection. Not around these Midgardians, anyway.”

“He doesn’t need to be. It’s all in his posture, his body language. I know you’re excellent at reading those kinds of signals in other people – it’s a skill you learn to hone as an ambassador. But maybe they aren’t as obvious when they’re directed towards you.”

“He’s barely acknowledged my presence all morning. What am I missing?”

“Despite what you think, he’s more than acknowledged you, my dear girl. The way he looks at you…I’ve seen that kind of look before. Here on Midgard, as it happens.”

“I thought you hadn’t been here in centuries.”

“And I haven’t. It was actually during one of my very first missions as an ambassador. We were sent to help a village in Norway recover after an attack from Jotunheim.”

Sigyn knew exactly which attack he was referring to – the attack that cost the Allfather one of his eyes, and eventually gained him an adopted son…the very son at the heart of all her current problems.

“The village had been decimated,” continued Bjornson. “The survivors were starving and frail, but resilient. Their leader – a young man chosen from amongst the survivors – never allowed the villagers to get out of hand, keeping them in control while we went about our jobs, squelching any talk or movement toward rebellion with no more than a well-placed word or glare.”

“He must have been an excellent leader.”

“He was. No one dared go against him. But in our interactions with them as a whole, it was made devastatingly clear – if we, as Asgardian ambassadors, were to try to press our advantage against these weakened people, if we had refused help or tried to keep them from the supplies and food we were providing…it would not have gone well for us, no matter our relationship with their leader. They had a _controlled_ hunger, but a hunger all the same.”

“As you are here now to have this conversation with me,” said Sigyn, “is it safe to assume then that your dealings were successfully peaceful?”

“Absolutely,” said Bjornson. “My point is, the way those Norwegian villagers looked at our supplies, at our food – it’s exactly the same way your husband looks at you.”  

Sigyn laughed. “As though I’m a piece of meat?”

“No, it’s more than that. It’s as though,” he paused, considering his words, “it’s as though you are essential for his continued survival – and there isn’t a living soul in all the nine realms and beyond that will keep him from you. It’s remarkable, really. I’ve known our princes a very long time, and for most of his life, Loki only ever looked at his brother that way; it’s heartening to see him directing his focus to a healthier place.”

“It’s a lot of pressure, Radi, keeping him on the path to redemption. There are days I don’t feel up to the task.”

“Well, if anyone is up to the task, it’s you. And if I may,” he said, leaning in close, “I must admit to a bit of envy. I’ve only ever been married to my career; watching the two of you makes me miss something I’ve never even had.”

“Perhaps it’s not too late for you, Radi. But let us hope that if you are to find love,” said Sigyn with a smile, “that it will be kinder to you than it has been to me.” She looked up from their conversation to see Loki making his way across the room to her.

“I believe this is my cue to occupy myself elsewhere,” said Bjornson. “We can discuss our impending departure later.” He walked away, nodding to Loki as they passed one another.

Loki pressed himself as closely to Sigyn as he dared while still maintaining a comfortable public distance, yet he was still near enough that she could smell the soap in his hair, the leather of his clothing, the scent of his skin. Immediately, the familiar ache began to build up inside her, the yearning for his touch that no amount of intimacy could ever fully sate – now tainted with sadness at the prospect of being separated from him once again.

He allowed himself the indulgence of taking her hand in his, absently rubbing his thumb across her wedding ring. “Ambassador Bjornson spoke to you of returning to Asgard, did he not?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t wish to part with you, Sigyn. I would accompany you, but Thor insists I stay…insists that my presence until the end is the only thing that will keep me from my prison cell upon my return home.”

“If that’s what needs to be done to ensure that happens, then I am in complete agreement with him.”

“As I knew you would be.” He sighed, looking around the room and at the Midgardians in scattered clusters, many of them stealing apprehensive glances his way. “I would take you back to our room this instant. Allow these petty fools to come to a solution on their own while we occupy ourselves in a much more enjoyable manner.”

“And I would welcome it, if I thought it would be helpful.”

“It would be helpful to _me_. What else matters?”

She tried not to roll her eyes. “Need I remind you that it was that attitude – _what’s helpful to Loki and Loki alone_ – that got us here in the first place?”

He looked at her with the smallest of grins but didn’t reply, letting the weight of her words hang between them.

* * *

Jane Foster returned an hour later than expected, laden with binders and papers and notebooks.

“I think we dealt them a serious blow in their last attack – my information indicates their numbers aren’t as great as we saw previously,” she said. “But that will make them desperate, and desperation will make them even more dangerous.”

“We can’t let word of this out,” said Steve. “It would be mass panic on a global scale, worse than anything the Chitauri could do to us.”

“Don’t ever let anyone tell you your time spent frozen in a glacier weakened your brain, Cap,” said Stark. “S.H.I.E.L.D. has access to several deactivated radar stations in Northern Canada – well, mostly deactivated as far as the public is concerned. We can use one of them to set up our operations – lure the Chitauri to somewhere relatively desolate. That way we can keep the civilian population out of harm’s way – and ignorant to what’s really going on until it’s all over.”

“How will we convince them to go there?” asked Bruce.

“I’ve got some ideas,” said Tony. “I need to work out the details, but suffice it to say – I have a feeling it will be something the Chitauri will find impossible to resist.”

* * *

Bjornson and Sigyn took their leave of the group late in the afternoon, citing the need to prepare for departure the next day. Loki attempted to leave with her, but was stopped by Stark.

“Not so fast, hotshot. She can go, but we still need to discuss a few things with you. Besides, my people haven’t had a chance to finish soundproofing your room yet – the rest of your floor’s occupants really don’t want a repeat of last night.”

“If I find someone has been in our room,” said Loki, whirling on the smaller man, “then I will personally ensure they suffer for it.”

“I was _kidding_ , Captain Killjoke,” said Stark. “You really need to lighten up.”

Sigyn put her hand in Loki’s; he squeezed it a bit too hard, his eyes never leaving Stark’s. She had to reach up to turn his head to hers, happy to see some of the stiffness slip out of his posture as he took her in.

“Will you excuse us for just a moment, Mr. Stark?” she said.

“Why? Trying to escape?”

“We’ll just step to the end of this hall – you’ll be able to keep your eyes on us the entire time.”

Stark nodded, and Sigyn pulled Loki just far enough away to where their conversation could stay relatively private.

“I think we’re all just a little worried,” she said. “No one is trying to upset you, darling. I think they appreciate the help you’re willing to provide…but even if they don’t, know that _I_ do.”

“That’s all that matters to me, Sigyn. You’re the only reason I’m here. If my information can help, then that’s wonderful, but it’s still a risk. This taste of freedom I’ve been given, it isn’t enough. I’d really rather not die for these people.”

“Then give them what they need to make sure that doesn’t happen.” She put her arms around his neck, pleased that he returned her embrace even with Stark watching. She leaned in closely to his ear. “Talk to them, but don’t linger. I want to spend as much of this night together as possible.”

* * *

Sigyn was just finishing up the last of her packing when Loki returned to their room, looking resigned but determined.

“How did it go? Was anything decided?”

“We are to leave in the morning for the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. They hope to be able to send the message to the Chitauri from there.”

She picked up her bag, moving to put the last of her new clothing into it. “Do you think this plan will work?”

“I honestly don’t know – and right now, I don’t care.” He took the bag from her hand, setting it on the floor. “Packing can wait. _I_ cannot.”

He didn’t say another word, cradling her head in his hands, his gaze flickering across her features so intensely she had to shut her eyes. She felt a tear slip through her lashes and roll down her cheek, followed immediately by his lips on her skin, kissing it away.

“I love you, Sigyn,” he said, his voice no more than a whisper. “Whatever happens, please…never forget that. You are a treasure to me. If we survive this – “

“Don’t say that! Please, I’ve already mourned you once. Don’t make me mourn you again.”

“I don’t plan to.”

“Good. I’m more than a little weary of crying over you, you know.”

“And what of this?” he asked, gently pulling her shirt open to cover her breast with his hand, squeezing lightly but insistently. “Are you also weary of my affections?”

“Never,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him once again before pulling back. “Now, no more talking. Take me to bed and give us both something pleasant to think on in our separation.”

* * *

In her time on Midgard, Sigyn had met countless dignitaries, learned myriad new facts about the Midgardian realm, and had even been successful in verbally sparring against Tony Stark…but the most difficult thing she had done by far was extricating herself from her husband’s embrace and out of bed the next morning.

They readied for the day in near silence, neither of them wanting to accept the truth of their situation until it could no longer be avoided.

They didn’t wait for anyone to retrieve them this time, choosing instead to gather their things and go directly to the common area. They found Thor and Bjornson there, ready to depart. Loki approached the older man.

“Ambassador, I never did take the opportunity to thank you for everything you’ve done for Sigyn. Please, know that I am indebted to you.”

“It has been my absolute pleasure, Your Highness. You should be very proud of her and everything she has accomplished.”

“I am,” said Loki, turning to Sigyn. “Kiss our son for me. Tell him his papa –“

“Will be home soon. That is what I will tell him. Don’t prove me a liar, Loki.”

Just then, the elevator door opened and Stark stepped out.

“Our transport leaves in ten minutes,” he said. “I trust everyone has said their goodbyes?”

Sigyn stepped past Loki to embrace Thor. “Take care of your little brother for me, won’t you?”

“Always.”

Sigyn turned to Loki, expecting him to revert to indifference in front of Stark. Instead, he surprised her by pulling her close, one arm around her waist and his hand holding her head as he leaned in for a chaste but lengthy kiss. It was undoubtedly more a reaction to her hugging Thor than anything, but she welcomed it all the same.

“Be careful,” she said as he drew away.

He merely nodded before turning to Stark. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

He didn’t look at her again, marching instead to the elevator and keeping his head down until they doors closed and they were gone.

* * *

It was another thirty minutes of waiting before another of Stark’s many employees came to collect Sigyn and Bjornson for their own departure. They had just reached the main lobby of the building when two soldiers, dressed head to toe in S.H.I.E.L.D. armor, approached them.

“Lady Aradottir, we need you to accompany us,” said one of them. He appeared to be barely out of his adolescence, and Sigyn was once again reminded of how young Midgardians tended to be.

“Why? Has something happened?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am – your husband became uncooperative not long after their party left. He was brought back here, for everyone’s safety.” A small device in the soldier’s hand flickered to life, and Sigyn could see an image of Loki, pacing furiously in what appeared to be a fortified room.

“What? Can I talk to him?”

“That’s what we’re hoping you can do. He won’t talk to anyone else.”

“Take us to him,” said Bjornson.

“No, Radi, this might take a while,” said Sigyn. “You go on, return to Asgard. I’ll follow along shortly, I’m sure of it.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely. Brief them on the situation. Perhaps you can even convince them to gather forces to help if need be.”

“I will do my best.” Bjornson pulled her in for a tight hug. “Do take care. I will see you soon.”

“Thank you, for everything.” She turned back to the waiting soldier. “Let’s go.”

A few minutes later, Sigyn found herself in an unfamiliar elevator, this one with several buttons that she didn’t recall being in the one she had used before. The soldier pressed one labeled “B5”, and Sigyn was surprised to feel the elevator begin to descend rather than rise.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, her heart in her throat. Suddenly, the idea that she had allowed Bjornson to leave without her seemed terribly foolish.

“He’s being kept in a basement level, ma’am.”

The elevator came to a smooth stop, the doors opening into a stark white hallway. One of the soldiers stepped through, the other staying behind Sigyn to herd her in the direction she needed to go.

They came to the room she had seen on the soldier’s device, a large window giving her an unobstructed view of her husband, sitting in a chair near the far wall and looking strangely calm. She didn’t even hesitate to go through the door.

“Loki, what’s going on?”

He made no move to look at her, or even to rise and greet her – and as she stepped closer, Sigyn realized why. It wasn’t Loki at all, but merely a well-executed copy of him, not too different from the illusions he could cast of himself. As she neared it, it shimmered and then disappeared.

She spun on her feet, just in time to see the door to the room slide shut behind her – _no no no no!_ She ran to the window, slamming into the glass as hard as she dared.

“What’s the meaning of this? Let me out!”

Directly on the other side of the glass stood a dark-haired woman Sigyn had never seen, flanked by the two soldiers who had accompanied her to the basement.

“Lady Aradottir, my name is Maria Hill –“

“Where is Loki?”

“He isn’t here. Sorry for the deception, but we had no other choice.”

“No other choice for what?” asked Sigyn, stepping back to scan the room for another exit and coming up woefully short.

“We couldn’t let you leave just yet. We think you can be of use to us against the Chitauri.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after a six week hiatus, I'm back and ready to finish this thing up. As always, reviews, kudos, and bookmarks are greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Also, in case anyone missed it - I did post a Loki/Sigyn one-shot titled "Celebration" right before the new year. You can find it in my works if you are interested. :)


	36. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many continued and effusive thanks to my betas, LaTessitrice and einarsdatter. Kudos and comments, as always, are greatly appreciated. <3

“You know, Natasha,” yelled Stark, trying to be heard over the whine of the plane’s engines, “it would be great if you could get us there in one piece!”

As if in response, the plane jostled sharply to the left once more before straightening out and coming to a rough landing. The humans seated around Loki all appeared a little worse for the wear, at least one of them having retched into a paper bag during the descent. He would have found it amusing, if he could have been bothered to care about any of them.

Loki glanced out the window as the plane came to a stop. Snow and small patches of scrubby trees stretched across the horizon as far as he could see, broken only by the large group of buildings their group would be calling home for the next few days.  

There were at least a dozen buildings, all of them low and flat and typical of the Midgardian style of “serviceable but forgettable” save for a few taller structures that looked like large curved wings; Loki figured these to be the Midgardian devices they would use to hail the Chitauri.

“You ever get this much snow on Asgard?” asked Stark, picking up a few bags of equipment as the hatch began to open.

“Only in the mountains,” said Thor. “I haven’t seen this much since…” He didn’t finish, looking at Loki apologetically.

“Jotunheim,” said Loki. “You can say it, Thor.”

“Jotunheim?” asked Stark. “What’s that? Yet another planet of potential mass-murderers?”

Loki followed Stark down the ramp. “Oh, yes – a realm of fearsome warriors, with blue skin and sharp teeth…utterly vile and heartless creatures with no redeeming value whatsoever. They use the cold and ice as a weapon.” He took in the forbidding landscape. “I believe they would be right at home here.”

“And these…Jotunheimers? Jotunheimians? Should we be worried about them right now?”

“Jotuns. And no, they do not concern you at this time,” said Loki, shaking snow from his hair as they stepped into the main building. “They are called ‘Frost Giants’ in our realm, as they usually dwarf even the largest Asgardian. I can hardly imagine what one would look like to someone your size, Stark.”

“Well, you know what they say. It’s not the size of your sword that counts, but how you wield it.”

“Only a man with a small sword would ever say that,” said Loki. “In my estimation, a large sword, wielded well, is ideal. I’m certain if my wife were here, she would attest to that.”

“If Sigyn were here,” said Thor, “she would insist you hold your tongue, Loki.”

“Hold it where, exactly?” said Loki.

“Behind your teeth, where it does the least amount of damage.”

“And where it has the least amount of fun,” said Loki. “But if you insist, I will strive to keep my comments to a minimum. It does grow tiresome, using wit against the witless.”

* * *

From the outside, there was nothing to indicate anything in the site was of any importance; the inside of the largest building, however, told an entirely different story.

It was filled with what appeared to be the latest in Midgardian technology: flashing screens and beeping equipment, all of it manned by unremarkable men and women shuffling back and forth like rats in a cage. Only a few of them bothered to look up from their work and at him as they passed, recognition flashing in their eyes for the merest breath before they put their heads back down and returned to their tasks. 

Loki wondered if any of them had any idea of the gravity of their situation, or if they only did what they were told until they were told to do otherwise. He figured it was almost definitely the latter; it was what would have made them so easy to conquer and rule. If only they had _all_ been so easily broken, he would be sitting upon a throne instead of being forced to cooperate in a scheme to prevent their annihilation.

That his blessed, beloved wife would not only _befriend_ these creatures, but actively pursue their mutual benefit was infuriating. It was a testament to her good nature, her unwavering kindness and generosity. It shouldn’t have surprised him, as _he_ was the biggest beneficiary of her graciousness in the entire nine realms.

But therein lay the problem; he wanted her – not just her physical body, but all of that kindness and generosity and graciousness that came along with her – all for himself. He knew he couldn’t have it both ways, but it didn’t make it any easier to stomach the thought of sharing even the smallest part of her with beings he found so repulsive.

“Everyone drop your bags and get a bathroom break in while you can,” said Natasha. “Conference room in five minutes. Stark may be the boss in his tower, but here, _I_ call the shots.”

* * *

The station’s conference room was a near-perfect copy to the one in Stark Tower, from the bottomless pots of coffee to the uncomfortable chairs. Everyone shuffled in, sitting in the exact same pattern as they had in New York. Loki thought briefly of taking a different chair, just to throw off their irritating sense of order, but decided against it. A pervasive sense of dread had begun to settle in his bones, dampening his mood just enough to leave them in peace.

Natasha marched to the front of the room as soon as the door shut behind her.

“Dr. Foster and Dr. Banner are gathering the latest data so we can figure out exactly when to expect the Chitauri. While we wait for them, we need to devise a battle strategy.”

“As much as I would like to hear whatever inferior suggestions the rest of the team might have,” said Stark, “let me throw mine out there first. I say we use Professor Snape here as bait.”

“Professor who?” asked Captain Rogers.

“I believe he’s using another of your human colloquialisms to mean _me_ ,” said Loki. “And I appreciate neither the unknown reference nor the suggestion. You asked only for information, which I provided; I never offered myself as a sacrifice for you.”

“You would only be a lure, not a sacrifice,” said Stark. “We send them a message, telling them we’ve got you and the Tesseract, and that they can pick you both up here like divorced parents exchanging their kids on a Sunday night.”     

“And when they show up, you throw me to them and hope they retreat peacefully?” asked Loki. “An idiotic plan, even by Midgardian standards. These creatures won’t be placated by an offering of goodwill, not when they were so thoroughly routed the last time they were here. They will be spoiling for a fight; you’ll have to forgive me if I politely decline to be a part of the carnage.”

Natasha piped up. “You didn’t have a problem being a part of the carnage when you were fighting _with_ them.”

“You know nothing about me, what I went through,” hissed Loki. “It would have destroyed a lesser man. But I survived, and I intend to continue surviving long after each and every one of you is food for worms.”

“And you can do that when this is over, far the fuck away from here,” said Stark. “But unless you can think of a better way to get these assholes to come where we want them – one that doesn’t involve throwing the rest of us under the proverbial bus, I might add – then I suggest you keep quiet.”

“You’re planning my possible demise, and you want me to keep _quiet_?” scoffed Loki. “How dare you –“

“You know, I’m beginning to wonder why your brother didn’t bring your damn muzzle back with him when he brought you here –“

“Enough, both of you!” said Thor. He turned to Loki. “Perhaps we should hear the rest of his plan before we make a final decision, brother. There _is_ more to this plan, is there not, Stark?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. We have S.H.I.E.L.D. troops to back us up when they arrive. We put Loki out there in chains, make them think our offer is genuine, and then swoop in for the kill once they’re close enough.”

“If you think I will allow myself to be chained up like a lamb to the slaughter, you are sorely mistaken.”

“They have no chains that can truly hold you, Loki,” said Thor. “It would merely be a ruse.”

“I won’t be left defenseless, Thor. If they get close enough, I _will_ fight back, using whatever means necessary. Whether that’s a part of your plan or not.”

“I don’t care if you kill every single one of them with your bare hands,” said Natasha, “as long as you’re fighting on _our_ side this time. But turn against us, and I will personally make sure you suffer for it.”

Loki remained silent, mulling it over.

“We may have help from Asgard as well,” said Thor. “I asked Ambassador Bjornson to appeal to them upon his return, to perhaps send Einherjar troops. I’m sure he and Sigyn are doing what they can, even as we speak.”

“If Odin hasn’t thrown her in the dungeon to punish me for escaping,” said Loki.

“Father is not that heartless, no matter what you think, Loki.”

“Let us hope that for once you are right.”

“Even more,” said Stark, “let’s hope they’re successful. We can use all the help we can get.”

The conference room door opened, Jane hurrying in with Banner following closely behind.

“I hope you’ve got a plan,” she said. “Latest data indicates the Chitauri are within a day’s reach of us. Have you got a message we can send to them?”

Stark looked to Loki, who just nodded back. “Looks like we do.”

“Alright then,” said Natasha. “Steve, I need you to brief the S.H.I.E.L.D. troops on the plan. As for you two,” she continued, looking at Thor and Loki, “help the doctors and Stark craft the message to be as believable as possible, and we’re good to go.”

She turned to Barton. “Clint, we’ve only got a good eight hours of daylight up here this time of year. You and I need to make sure our exterior lights are working in case these bastards decide to show up late.”

“It’s freezing out there,” he said, his characteristic scowl becoming even pronounced.

“This is nothing, Clint. It’s practically springtime in Siberia.”

“But I’m not Russian, Nat,” he replied, even as he followed her out of the room.

As soon as everyone was gone, Loki turned to Stark. “There is one thing I request, before we get started.”

“What’s that?”

“One of these creatures, the leader of their faction…I only knew him as The Other. I have a score to settle with him. If he is amongst this group, I want him left for me to dispose of _personally_.”

* * *

It was hours before they settled on a suitable missive for transmission, one that included a fabricated image of Loki in chains to help sell the lie.

“Alright, you Asgardian wonder twins,” said Stark. “We’re done with you for now. Why don’t you go settle in for a bit? We’ll come find you if we need you.” 

Loki followed Thor to a smaller connected building, this one housing their sleeping accommodations. They had been assigned a room together, Stark citing “lack of space” as the reason, even though Loki was certain it was more to keep him under constant surveillance than a shortage of private rooms.

They were at least spared the indignity of having to share a bed, their room having four of the smallest Loki had ever seen. Thor set upon pushing them into two larger sets to better accommodate them as soon as he saw them.

“I hope your friend Dr. Foster’s information is accurate,” said Loki. “She is your _friend_ , correct? Or are you wishing perhaps you’d been assigned sleeping quarters with her instead of me?”

“Speak plainly, Loki. We are alone for the time being, and I have no interest in a game of semantics.”

“Alright then,” said Loki. “Have you bedded her?”

Thor remained silent for so long Loki thought he might not answer. “No,” he said finally. “I have not.”

“Not yet?”

“That does not concern you, Loki.”

“Normally, I would agree, and I wouldn’t care if you bound yourself to Sif or if you chose to stick your cock in every available Midgardian willing to part her legs for you. But I must know, for my own reasons, your intentions for your relationship with Dr. Foster.”

“I care a great deal for her, brother.”

“And yet you know her frailty will take her from you much sooner than you would like. Her entire lifespan is but a blink of an eye to Asgard.”

“I know this. But I fail to see how that matters to you.”

Loki stared at the floor for a beat before raising his eyes to Thor. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, brother.”

“Am I supposed to find this news surprising?” asked Thor with a laugh. “Only truthfulness from you ever shocks me.”

“It’s about Sigyn. I know you proposed to her while I was… _gone_.”

Thor’s smile faded, like the setting of the sun. “Who told you that?”

“Her brother, Edmund.”

“We all thought you dead, Loki. I couldn’t bear the thought of her raising your child on her own. Not when I could help. I did make an offer of marriage to her. An offer which was met with immediate refusal, I might add.”

“That must have hurt, to be rejected so callously.”

“Sigyn doesn’t have a cruel bone in her body, brother. She was prepared to spend the rest of her life alone to honor your memory. Would you have done the same for her?”

“Such a vow would be unnecessary in my case. What little remained of my life would be spent finding the cause of her demise, destroying it completely, and following her into death.”

“You may say that, brother, but you no longer have the luxury of being self-destructive. You have a son now, one who depends upon you.”

“And what good would I be to him alone? No…better for him to lose me than his mother.”

“Better for him to keep you both. And perhaps, if circumstances permit it…even gain a sibling one day.”

“Perhaps,” said Loki, absently picking at the skin on his thumb. He took a deep breath. “I must know…what was she like? In her pregnancy?”

The smile on Thor’s face was wistful. “She was radiant, Loki. Even as she mourned your loss, she never once complained about her situation. She threw herself into her studies with as much vigor and enthusiasm as a child at play. Even you would have been impressed.”

“Not once has she ever failed to impress me. Not since the moment we met.”

“Well, that is a feat not easily accomplished.” His expression turned serious. “You must know, had she consented to marriage, I would never have required her… _physical_ affections –“

Loki stopped him with a wave of his hand. “I know. Though I suspect it would have been more to spare her crushing disappointment than honor on your part.”

Thor laughed. “And there is the humor I love so well. I would see it more often, brother.”

“Get me off this forsaken realm and back into the arms of my wife, and I will be nothing _but_ good humor.”

“You must trust that I – and my friends – will do everything we can to ensure that happens,” said Thor, clapping Loki on the shoulder. “But I don’t understand what any of this has to do with Jane.”

“Only this. If something were to happen to me here –“

“It won’t, Loki.”

“ _If_ it were…I need to know that your offer to Sigyn still stands. That you would care for her and Ari in my absence.”

“I vow to you, brother, they will be well cared for until my dying breath and beyond.”

“Pledge that when you become king my son will become heir to the throne of Asgard, and I will die in peace, Thor. Even if you must lie, give me that small comfort.”

“I have never had your skills of deception, Loki. But I pledge to you, for whatever it is worth, that I will make that happen.”

* * *

It was still full dark when the alarm sounded.

Loki was out of bed at once, dressed with a wave of his hand before Thor’s feet had even touched the floor.

“If I envy you anything, it’s that one trick, brother,” said Thor, dressing as quickly as possible while Loki paced.

“Something is wrong, Thor. I can feel it.”

“Nothing is wrong, Loki. Things will go well, and you will be back with Sigyn before the Chitauri corpses have even finished smoldering.”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and their door flew open without warning. It was Stark, looking as flustered as Loki had ever seen him.

“Glad to see you’re ready to go. There’s been a little hitch in our plans.”

“What is it?” asked Thor, pointedly ignoring Loki’s look of _I told you so_.

“Well, they took the bait,” said the smaller man as they followed him into the hall and toward the main building. “Their ship is in Earth’s orbit, and there’s a party of them heading to our coordinates as we speak.”

“This is what we hoped for, is it not?” said Loki.

“Uh, yeah – except they first sent a separate group to New York. To Stark Tower to be precise.”

“Why would they do that?” asked Thor.

“Looking for _you_ there, I would imagine,” said Stark, nodding at Loki. “Guess they didn’t trust our information. I got a report that they blasted their way in, left a few casualties in their wake. Didn’t find what they were looking for, so now that party is heading here to join the others.”

They reached the conference room to find Jane there with Banner, neither of them looking as though they had slept much. Within minutes, the rest of the team had filed in.

“We haven’t got much time,” said Natasha. “Thor, get Loki in his chains and lead him out to the meeting point. Everyone else – you know your jobs. Now let’s get to it.”

Everyone scattered as quickly as they had gathered, leaving Thor and Loki behind with Jane.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know what had happened until it was too late. We sent the message hours ago. I thought things were on track, and I laid my head down for just a _second_ …”

“Jane, this is not your doing,” said Thor. “We were as prepared as we could possibly be. Now you need to get somewhere safe –“

“And miss my chance to get more data for research? I don’t think so –“

“Jane, please –“

“As much as I hate to interrupt this lover’s quarrel,” said Loki, “I really think you and I should be heading outside, Thor.” It gave him no small amount of pleasure to see enormous, brash Thor so cowed by this tiny Midgardian woman. She reminded Loki of Sigyn in a way, with her obvious intelligence and determination. Funny that he and his brother would both be attracted to such similar women – a strange turn of events Loki would have to think on later, once everything had settled.

Ten minutes later they were standing outside the building, the icy wind whipping their hair and clothing. The cold metal of the chains they had placed on Loki’s wrists and ankles bit into his skin; he considered for a moment whether to change into his jotun form to make the cold more bearable, but thought better of it. That was a secret he would hold from these Midgardians until it proved necessary to reveal it.

The outside lights had been trained on a spot in a field about a thousand paces from the buildings. Loki could see a few hundred Chitauri forces gathered on the edge of the darkness. At once, he was overcome with revulsion, their disgusting bodies and hideous insect-like sounds a terrible reminder of the time he had spent in their company.

As he and Thor approached, ten more Chitauri vehicles swooped in from the south, the one in the front manned by a being Loki recognized immediately: _The Other_.

His vehicle stopped just inside the circle of lights, just as Thor and Loki reached the other side. Thor pushed Loki to his knees roughly, prompting Loki to whisper to him under his breath.

“Was that entirely necessary?”

“They said to be convincing, brother.”

“It seems our once mighty leader has indeed fallen,” said the creature, stepping down into the snow. “I remember this one from your memories, the brother with the red cape; even he has no more use for you it seems. Are you prepared to pay the price for your failure?”

As they had agreed, Loki remained silent at the taunting, allowing Thor to speak instead.

“We have done as promised, creature, our captive in exchange for peace. Why did you attack our tower in New York?”

“We had word that perhaps your _captive_ was being kept from our reach there, so we went to investigate. There were a few fatalities, of course. We wouldn’t have bothered with any of them once we discovered our prize was not there, but one in particular was very familiar…and utterly _reeking_ of his scent.”

He motioned to one of his faceless minions to come forward. Draped across his shoulder was what appeared to be the body of a female, dressed in strangely familiar Midgardian clothing. He stopped right in front of The Other, throwing the body to the ground with a sickening thud.

Thor’s voice was no more than a distant echo through the ringing in Loki’s ears. “No…oh _no no no_...”

Her hair fanned out across the snow, just slightly lighter in color than the blood that had soaked into her shirt. Even at a distance, Loki knew from experience just how soft it would be between his fingers if he could touch it.

“I told you,” said The Other. “If you failed us, she would suffer first. What a shame she couldn’t have suffered longer.”

He took a device from his belt and tossed it, and before Loki could get to his feet, before he could even draw a breath to scream, Sigyn’s body erupted into flames.


	37. Chapter 35

For one instant, the world was at a complete standstill, frozen in a capsule of time stretching out into eternity in all directions.

Loki could see every snowflake in the air and on the ground, each rock and shrub and speck of dirt, all of it blissfully unaware of the surrounding horror.

He could see the dull reflection of every Chitauri soldier’s armor, every weak point – at the neck, the groin, just under their arms – a bright spot just waiting for a dagger.

But most of all, he could see The Other bathed in the glow of the fire before him, the flames consuming the one being in all the nine realms that had kept Loki bound to the vestiges of his sanity. He could feel those tethers burning away, destroyed as quickly and decisively as Sigyn herself.

It was as if time was a tightly coiled spring, waiting to be pulled from either end. And when it finally unraveled, so would he along with it, and this world would finally know the destruction of which he was _truly_ capable.

* * *

_He sees her as soon as he turns the corner from the stairwell, and he stops before she can hear him coming._

_His mother’s newly appointed handmaiden…Sigyn Aradottir, according to the note his mother sent the night before._

_It was a strangely worded note; in every instance before, his mother’s requests for his surreptitious help had only asked for information, for his observation and regurgitation of facts and nothing more. Never for his judgment of the girl herself._

_But this note, about this particular girl, asked for exactly that._ I want to know what you think about her _, it read._ She reports for her duties in the morning; your opinion of her would be most valuable.

_Odd…but if his mother wants his opinion, he will be more than happy to give it._

_He watches her for a moment as she knocks on his mother’s chamber doors and waits patiently for an answer. She is unremarkable from a distance; her light brown hair is pinned up in the braids so favored in the court – undoubtedly an attempt to please the queen’s sense of style – each strand carefully plaited and tamed. She is slightly taller than average, of average build – perfectly average and ordinary in every way. He hopes she has a personality to make up for her outward mediocrity._

_When there is no answer from the queen, she turns to look at the tapestries outside his mother’s chambers. He can’t remember the last time he even noticed them hanging there, but Sigyn studies them with such concentration he thinks the figures depicted would blush under the scrutiny, were they alive. She raises her hand as if to reach out and feel the cloth, but her fingers stay just above the images, tracing them without touching them._

_The urge to talk to her is abrupt, compelling him to move forward – he takes care to walk noisily to alert her to his presence without startling her._

_Hearing his footsteps, she stops her inspection and hurries back to the doors to the queen’s chambers. The surprise on her face as she sees him and not the queen isn’t entirely unexpected. What he_ doesn’t _expect is eyes the color of the mid-day sky at the edge of the Bifröst, and the way she looks directly at him without fear of rebuke or censure._

_“Who are you?” he asks, knowing full well who she is, but needing to look curious. It wouldn’t do to appear to know too much. Not just yet._

_“Sigyn, Your Highness. Sigyn Aradottir,” she says, executing a perfect curtsy in deference to him even in her obviously flustered state. “Her Majesty’s new handmaiden.”_

_“What happened to the last girl?”_

_“I believe she recently married, and left to start a family.”_

_“I see,” he says, already putting the last girl out of his mind. “Why are you out here? Does my mother have you studying the tapestries?”_

_“Oh, no. I was told to wait here if no one answered the door.” Her face softens into a tentative smile, and it is all Loki can do to maintain his air of indifference. Far too late, he realizes his error; she is not average, not mediocre. Not at all._

_“So, she is not here?”_

_“I can only assume not, Your Highness. I didn’t open the door.” A cloud of worry passes over her face at what she clearly feels is an impertinent answer, and he can no longer stop himself from smiling back at her to put her at ease. He tells himself he’s imagining the slight widening of her eyes as he does so, the tiny hitch in her breath as she studies his features as closely as she did the tapestry._

_“Of course not,” he says. “Will you tell her that I stopped by to see her?”_

_“Yes, of course. Nothing more than that?”_

_“No.” He decides to test her once before taking his leave. “Thank you, Sigrid,” he says, deliberately using the wrong name to judge her reaction. He turns and is several steps away from her before she replies, her voice so low he nearly misses it._

_“It’s Sigyn.”_

_For half a breath he wants to turn back to her, to apologize for getting her name wrong even if it was a ruse, but he merely continues on, only a momentary slowing of his pace giving away that he heard her. He doesn’t stop until he is around the corner and down the first few steps of the stairwell._

* * *

Loki could no longer feel the cold.

The roaring in his ears clarified itself as time began to speed up once again.

He caught noises, voices in varying stages of rage and panic.

Stark, from his suit, hovering just above…behind?...him – “ _Thor, get him out of here!”_

Thor  – calling his name. Imagined perhaps? Easily ignored.

Natasha...barking out orders to the waiting S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers.

A whooshing sound – Barton’s arrows…the Captain’s shield. Chitauri weapons? Everything a blur.

The crackle of Mjölnir…gathering energy from the surrounding air. Preparing to expel it in a burst of lightning – to raze the Chitauri down.

But above all this, he could hear a scream, animalistic in its fury and possessed of an overpowering mournfulness, and it took him several seconds to realize it was coming from his own throat.

He was on his feet before he was even aware of moving, the shackles and fetters disintegrated from his wrists and ankles in a flash of magic and something more base and visceral…and as he glanced down to his newly freed limbs, he could see the telltale blue skin peeking out from his sleeve.

Oh, these creatures had no idea what they had unleashed.

His hands shot forward, a green haze of magic intermingling with the ice and cold of his jotun nature, and a dozen Chitauri were eliminated – some by daggers, some by sheets and spikes of ice, all before he had even taken one step forward.

He was mindless in his rage, every move automatic and involuntary. Daggers flew from his fingertips as quickly as he could conjure them, each of them finding a target effortlessly, one creature after another felled by his grief.

One more blast from his fingers, and The Other was encapsulated in a thick blanket of ice and magic, impenetrable to even the strongest Midgardian weapon.

That one… _that one_ – he would die _last_.

* * *

_He calls forth a bit of his magic to cloak himself from view, and returns to the top of the stairs._

_She hasn’t moved from the spot in which he left her, one hand on her hip and the other on her forehead. Her eyes are closed and she is shaking her head, talking to herself in a loud whisper._

_“Norns be blessed, Sigyn – what is wrong with you? If the prince wants to call you Sigrid, or Olaf, or Lars the Bearded Goat, then you damn well let him.” She blows a breath out between her teeth, and looks up to the ceiling. “Please, don’t let this be a harbinger of things to come.” One more sigh and a shake of her head, and she is as poised as a statue once more._

_He is so struck by how quickly she regains her composure he almost doesn’t notice the footsteps behind him. Keeping himself concealed, he dashes across the corridor and tucks himself into an alcove just as his mother comes into view._

_“Ah, Sigyn!” she says as she approaches her chambers. “Good morning!”_

_“Good morning, Your Majesty. It’s a pleasure to see you again - I’m so looking forward to working with you.”_

_They make small talk as the queen opens her chamber doors, and Loki uses the opportunity afforded by their inattention to sneak down the corridor, slipping into the queen’s rooms behind them right before the doors shut._

_The two women make their way to the sitting area, and he leans against a far wall as they take their seats._

_“Your son was here just before you arrived, ma’am. Though, you probably saw him on the stairs.”_

_“Hmmm, no, the stairs were empty as I came up. Which son was it?”_

_For a moment, Sigyn looks nonplussed, but recovers quickly. “Prince Loki.”_

_“Did you speak to him?”_

_“Yes, ma’am. He asked me to tell you he stopped by.”_

_“I do hope he was pleasant to you. He can come across as fairly brusque to those he’s only just met.”_

_Loki’s jaw tenses at this, the urge to reveal and defend himself almost overwhelming his better judgment. He cannot help that he finds so many of the court’s sycophants intolerably boring._

_“Oh, he was lovely,” says Sigyn, and if he didn’t know better, he would swear she’s blushing. “Uh, kind, I mean. He was quite kind.”_

_“Kind? You’re certain it was Loki?”_

_Oh, he’s going to have words with his mother later._

_“Yes, ma’am. Tall, black hair, green eyes. Rather intense.” She hurries to clarify. “But not in a bad way, of course.”_

_His mother laughs quietly. “No. If I was allowed only one word to describe my younger son, ‘intense’ would be just about perfect.”_

* * *

A bolt of lightning from Mjölnir lit up the sky, shaking Loki from his thoughts. He looked down, noticing for the first time the ruined Chitauri mask in his hand, drops of the creature’s dark blue blood and gore from its crushed head still clinging to the metal.

Loki looked around his feet to see dozens more lifeless Chitauri, unable to count their true number for the sheer amount of parts to which their bodies had been reduced. The fabric and leather of his clothing were saturated with what he hoped at first was their blood alone – but as his senses slowly returned, he could also feel the telltale ache of injuries where the vile creatures had been able to get in a few hits before meeting their demise.

He pulled forth just enough of his healing magic to remain on his feet, to keep moving and rending and splitting and slashing and _killing_.

He no longer had any expectations of leaving that field alive – _Sigyn, prepare me a place in Valhalla; do not worry, our son will be well cared for, but I cannot survive without you_ – but he would be damned if he didn’t send every one of the remaining Chitauri to their own doom first.

* * *

_The queen and Sigyn talk for a while longer, discussing her duties and establishing what will be expected of her. Loki remains discreetly hidden, continuing his requested observation._

_It takes him no time at all to come to the conclusion that Sigyn is fiercely intelligent, inquisitive and composed. Vibrant and effervescent and clever and…beautiful. Beautiful? The last descriptor flits across his mind unbidden, and he wonders for a moment how he could have ever thought her otherwise. He mentally chastises himself; he’s certain that when his mother asked for his judgment, she wasn’t asking for his thoughts on her new handmaiden’s looks. He’ll keep that opinion secret or the queen will think he’s lost his mind._

_He comes back to himself as they rise from their seats, watching as his mother hands Sigyn a slip of paper._

_“I have a dress that needs to be taken to the palace seamstresses for repair. I also need you to stop by the kitchens and have them send up some tea and pastries this afternoon. I’m expecting a visitor later.”_

_“Yes, ma’am.”_

_Frigga retrieves her dress, handing it to Sigyn and sending her on her way. The door has barely latched behind her when the queen speaks._

_“I know you’re here, Loki. Show yourself.”_

_He lowers his cloaking magic at once. “Must you always act so surprised when someone describes me as ‘kind’?”_

_“Did I? I didn’t realize.”_

_He rolls his eyes, careful not to let her see him do it._

_“Come sit with me,” she says._

_He settles onto the sofa, right where Sigyn had been sitting mere moments prior, and he can smell her in the air. Rain and apples and flowers and a thousand other things he can’t put his finger on, and he has to stop himself from breathing in too deeply or noticeably._

_“So, what are your thoughts?”_

_“Myriad. Unless you mean something specific?”_

_“Don’t be daft. What are your thoughts about Sigyn?”_

_“She seems intelligent enough,” he says, crossing one leg over the other at the ankle and picking at a scratch in the leather of his boot. “I think she’ll be a passable handmaiden for you, Mother.”_

_“Merely ‘passable’?”_

_“Well, I’ll need to observe her when she’s alone to be sure. Intelligence doesn’t preclude deviousness, you know.”_

_“No, I rather think in some people those two qualities go hand in hand.” She arches an eyebrow at him._

_He ignores her implication. “My first impression, though limited, is that she will serve you well.”_

_“Is that all?”_

Of course not _, he thinks._ She is fearless and erudite and damn near perfect; I didn’t even know she existed until thirty minutes ago and already if I think about her eyes or her lips for too long I get a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach _– but of course he says none of this. “Isn’t that enough?”_

_“I suppose.” She looks at him for a beat, as though deciding if she wants to press the issue, before simply nodding her head._

* * *

Loki had never felt less alive.

The sky went white, brighter than anything the Midgardian technology or Mjölnir could produce – the Bifröst, opening up into the field and depositing wave after wave of Einherjar forces to reinforce their numbers – led by the Warriors Three and Sif.

The exhaustion that had settled into Loki was otherworldly in its pervasiveness. He could feel the Chitauri blood over his entire body, matting his hair and congealing on his cold jotun face. They had nearly all been eliminated, and those few that were left were falling quickly to the Asgardians’ swords.

The sky lit up once more, and at once the remaining Chitauri fell dead. With considerable effort, Loki raised his head to the sky just in time to make out the image of the orbiting Chitauri ship being blown apart, the beam of the Bifröst having been opened directly through it.

He could no longer conjure even the smallest dagger to throw in relief or celebration; what little magic he had left to him was being focused entirely on healing his injuries. Not that it truly mattered anymore.

He took three more steps before collapsing face first into the snow.

A minute - _an hour? a lifetime?_ \- later, pain shot through his body as he was none-too-gently rolled over onto his back. He couldn’t muster the strength to scream in protest; instead, the only sound he was able to produce was a shaky whimper. He looked up to see an Einherjar soldier leaning over him, one he recognized.

“Edmund,” said Loki, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “Your sister…Sigyn…she is _dead_ …”

“No,” said Edmund, shaking his head in confusion, his knuckles going white on the hilt of his sword. “That’s not –“

“She is dead because of me –“

“ _No_ ,” said Edmund once again, and this time he raised his sword.

* * *

_Loki and his mother talk for a while longer, straying from the subject of her handmaiden to more familiar and comfortable territory before he excuses himself._

_“I should really be going, Mother. Thor asked for my help with some information about a sword he’d like to have made for Sif. He’s supposed to meet me in the library this afternoon; I do hope he remembers where it is.”_

_“You don’t give your brother enough credit, Loki. I’m sure it will take him no more than three tries to find it.”_

_He takes her offered hand, and squeezes it affectionately. “If you like, I can come back tomorrow for more…observation.”_

_“Yes, I would like that very much. Speaking of...” She looks over his shoulder as the chamber doors open once again, signaling Sigyn’s return._

_“Until tomorrow, then,” he says, bowing to her before turning to leave. Just before he passes Sigyn, he makes an unobtrusive gesture with his hand, and the paper she is holding flies from her grip to settle at his feet. He retrieves it and holds it out to her._

_She reaches for it, and he intentionally grasps it in such a way that her fingers slide over his as she takes it from him. For one instant, the world goes sideways._

_“Thank you, Your Highness,” she says, and this time there is no mistaking the blush in her cheeks or the falter in her breath. She lowers her eyes quickly, and steps away._

_He glances at his mother just in time to catch her watching him with a look of smug knowledge, and he can’t even bring himself to scowl at her. He spins on his feet before she can say anything, nearly launching himself out the door so he can gather his wits and draw in a halting breath._

Calm yourself _, he thinks._ If you’re not careful, that girl is going to be the death of you _._

* * *

The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, glinting off of Edmund’s armor like a beacon.

Every shallow breath was agony. Edmund’s sword would be more mercy than he deserved, but Loki couldn’t form the words to thank him.

He closed his eyes, completely at peace for the first time in an age – thoughts of his wife the last thing on his mind.

_Sigyn. I love you. I will be with you soon._

And then, darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am horribly, dreadfully aware that this new chapter does nothing to assuage the emotional devastation of the last, and for that I humbly beg my readers' forgiveness. Be comforted by the fact that the story is not yet over - and that barring any unforeseen complications, the next chapter will be posted next Monday, right on schedule. Thank you so much for all the kudos/ bookmarks/ reviews - they are all noticed and appreciated more than I can express (even the angry reviews). ;)


	38. Chapter 36

Valhalla was far noisier than Loki anticipated. 

Ceaseless _whirring_ and _beeping_ and _voices_.

“I’ve never seen anything like this – is he supposed to be cold? Is this makeup?" A muffled woman's voice, one he didn't recognize. "And what are these ridges? Scars?” Rough hands and his garments being torn. Cut?

“You know as much as I do,” said another. They sounded as though they were talking through water. “Now help me get these clothes off. We can’t treat the injuries if we can’t see them.”

“I’m not sure we’ll be able to treat them _anyway_. I don’t even know what he _is_.”

 _What I am is no concern of yours, you imbecile_ , he wanted to say. _I would enjoy death a lot better if you would just shut up._

He tried to open his eyes, to figure out why Valkyries would sound so _Midgardian_ , but they wouldn’t budge. The voices faded out for a time…and returned as some far more familiar.

“Did you know he could do this?” Stark, Loki was certain. But that made no sense at all. Unless they had all died on the field that day…but surely fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to torment him with Stark’s presence in Valhalla for eternity.

“Did I know he could do what?” Thor, very close. Memories, these voices had to be memories.

“Change into… _this_. Whatever the hell this is.”

“He didn’t change _into_ anything. This is what he is, Stark. A jotun, and my brother.”

“I thought he said jotuns were giants, bigger than the largest Asgardian. Was he just fucking with me?”

“I assure you, Stark, Loki has no interest in doing that with you.”

 _You’re damn right I don’t. Didn’t?_ Why couldn’t he just open his eyes? These memories – if that’s what they were – were entirely too intrusive for his comfort.

“The feeling’s mutual, buddy. I meant – was he _joking_ with me?” 

“No. Loki is small for a jotun.”

“Well, I’ve got a lot more questions about this –“

“And they can all wait, Stark.” Loki felt a strong hand on his arm – _that can’t be right, how can I feel a memory? I’m delirious._ “Brother, I need you to fight. _Fight_ , Loki.”

_Why would I want to fight, Thor? I’ve fought enough. Just leave me in peace._

“I know you’re in there, you stubborn fool.” Heavy footsteps walking away, and then the opening of a door. Low voices, words he can barely make out. _He needs you. You must try again._

Softer footsteps, and then one warm hand in his and another stroking his cheek. “Loki…Loki, please. Come back to me…”

_Now I know I’m dead. If I could just open my eyes…_

But the darkness was persistent, and silence fell over him once more.

Then finally… _finally_ …he willed his eyes to open, and they did. Just a crack at first, just enough to reduce the light streaming in from the window from _blinding_ to merely _uncomfortable._

_Window? Where am I?_

His eyes adjusted to the light, allowing him to open them a bit more, and he turned toward the window. He could make out buildings just beyond the glass, buildings he recognized at once.

_New York. I’m in Stark Tower._

What fresh torture was this?

He was lying in a bed in Stark Tower. He tried to turn, wondering why his torso felt so heavy, when he realized there was something draped across his chest.

Not some _thing_. Some _one_.

He moved his head just enough to look down, to make out the top of a head of warm brown hair, splayed out across his chest and down onto the bed. He raised his arm – noting with dull fascination that he was still in his jotun form – and the moment he moved the head snapped up. Blue eyes met his…blue eyes he would have known anywhere.

“S-Sigyn?”

Before he could utter another word, hands buried themselves in his hair and his face was covered with kisses from warm lips – forehead, eyelids, cheeks, chin and ending on his mouth…gentle, but lingering long enough for him to taste the salt of her tears.

His hands grasped at her back, clutching her to him as tightly as he dared; he breathed deeply, inhaling her scent until he felt dizzy.

The entirety of Valhalla could look like New York, with every other occupant being a duplicate of Stark himself – but he had been returned to his wife’s arms. Nothing else mattered.

“Oh, Loki,” she said, pulling back. “I was so worried you wouldn’t survive. After all I’d done, that would have been too unfair.”

“Survive? Survive what?”

“The Chitauri attack.”

“I – I don’t understand…am I not dead?”

“No, my love,” she said, kissing the palm of his hand. “We’re very much alive. Both of us.”

“How? I saw you –“

“It wasn’t me –“

“What happened? H-how? _How?_ ”

“I’ll tell you. But you must swear to me – swear you’ll listen to the entire story first, before you pass judgment on anyone.”

Loki squinted at her – he’d never in his life heard a story begin that way that ended with him _not_ wanting to hurt someone. “Go on.”

* * *

“We think you can be of use to us against the Chitauri.”

Sigyn stared at the woman through the glass – Maria Hill, that’s what she’d said – calculating her chances of talking her way out of her current predicament. Loki and the others were well on their way to Canada by now – if Heimdall was watching Midgard, his eyes were on Loki’s location, not hers.  “Who is ‘we’? Is Stark a part of this plan?”

“No. You seem to have charmed him to the point he can’t recognize an ideal tactic when it’s right in front of him. We at S.H.I.E.L.D. have no such blinders…not when the safety of our planet is at stake.”

“And how exactly do you think _I_ can help with the Chitauri? My skills lie in the area of diplomacy, not battle. From what I understand, these creatures will not be interested in parley as much as annihilation.”

“We won’t be using you for fighting – only for motivation.” 

Sigyn stepped back in horrified understanding. “Whose motivation?” she asked, already knowing the answer.  

“Loki’s.”

“You would use me against him?”

“No, we would use _him_ against the _Chitauri_. He’s made it abundantly clear he has no interest in fighting these creatures for us. Creatures – I might add – that would have no knowledge of our existence were it not for him.”

“He was fighting for his survival –“

“And as of right now, so are we. And we need to be able to use all of our weapons at full capacity.”

“Loki isn’t a _weapon_ ,” said Sigyn, stepping closer to the glass once again, “he is my _husband_.” She punctuated the last word with a fist to the glass, doing her best to break through not only the window but the mind of this insufferable Midgardian.

To her credit, Hill didn’t even flinch. “Which is exactly why we know you’ll help us.”

“What choice do I have in the matter? I’m the one on this side of the glass,” said Sigyn, running her hand down the window. “What can I possibly do to help?”

“Whether it was his intention or not, Stark was very forthcoming with information about you,” she said, taking a notebook from one of the guards next to her. “Reiterated again and again just how paramount your safety is…how every one of you Asgardians were kind enough to warn him that if something were to happen to _you_ specifically, Loki would – to quote Stark – ‘lose his shit’. Honestly, that sounds pretty helpful – as long as his anger is directed the right way.”

“Toward the Chitauri.”

“Choice of husband aside – you’re not a stupid woman, Lady Aradottir.”

“I don’t know about that – I’m questioning quite a few of my recent choices…beginning with thinking I could trust any of you. I am an _ambassador_ to this realm. You have no right to risk my safety, no matter whom I married.”

“We don’t want to harm you –“

“But you’ll do it anyway to achieve your victory?”

“You misunderstand. We have no intention of genuinely hurting _you_. Only a likeness of you.”

Sigyn looked back at the chair sitting against the far wall, the one that Loki had appeared to be sitting in when she walked in. “An illusion? That won’t fool Loki. And when he realizes what you’ve done, the Chitauri will be the least of your problems.”

“Not an illusion. A reproduction, faithful in every detail. Our technology can have it completed in 12 hours’ time.”

“Then why do you need me?”

“We need your clothes. Specifically, any of the clothes you were wearing when you were holed up in that room with him…anything that might smell like him. If he spent as much time with these things as he claims he did, they should be able to identify his scent and put the pieces together on just what a wonderful war trophy they’ll have discovered.”

Sigyn sighed loudly, in equal parts understanding and disgust. “So, my undergarments? That’s what you want?”

“That would be helpful, yes. But the outer clothing needs to be something Loki would recognize as yours, even from a distance.”

Sigyn paced the room, her mind spinning with anger and frustration. “How exactly do you plan on getting this ‘copy’ of me into Chitauri hands? I think even they would recognize a lifeless decoy.”

“We have an operative stationed in Canada who is prepared to add a little extra information to the message they’re sending to the Chitauri ship. Information insinuating that Loki is not where they promised he’d be, and suggesting they send a small party here first.”

“And when they arrive, you’ll just throw this decoy at them and hope they’re fooled?”

“No – we’ll put up a little fight, hoping they’ll blast their way in. And when they do, we’ll leave what appears to be your corpse for discovery.”

“What happens to me in the meantime? Am I to be kept here until it’s all over?”

“No, we’re sending you back to Asgard, just as we promised.”

“Why keep me at all if you mean to send me back anyway? Why not just steal my clothing and cry carelessness later?”

“Because now that you know our intentions, you will have all the incentive you need to make sure your people back home send reinforcements.”

Sigyn collapsed into the chair, too tired – both physically and mentally – to continue pacing. “What if Loki doesn’t survive the attack? What then? Or is that what you’re hoping will happen, as recompense for his previous crimes?”

“His survival is of no concern to us, provided he fights well. It would be an honorable death, right? Don’t you Asgardians prize that above all else?”

“Not all of us prize death, in any form. And I can promise you, if things do not go well, and my husband dies because of your actions – any future help from Asgard will be non-existent, not just from a diplomatic standpoint, but from Thor as well.”

“If things don’t go well, Lady Aradottir,” said Hill, her mouth turned up in a smile completely empty of humor, “it won’t matter. For any of us.”

* * *

Less than an hour – and one exchange of clothing – later, Sigyn was on another transport headed for the Bifröst site.

It had only been a handful of days since she’d landed on Midgard with Thor and the others, and in that small span of time, she felt as though she’d aged a millennium. She’d arrived a young and hopeful diplomat-in-training; she was going home a jaded politician, one who was on the verge of becoming a widow for the second time in her short life – and with the same husband.

Fate was certainly having a laugh at her expense, and she was tired of being the butt of the joke.

She sat silently in the airship, contemplating every decision she had made that had led her to this point – starting with accepting Loki’s proposal to spend time with him the night of his mother’s birthday celebration. If she had the chance to do it all over, knowing what she now knew, would she have done anything differently? Perhaps she would have thanked him for his interest, politely declined his offer of companionship, and then put her resignation in immediately. She could have found a nice farmer living in the fertile valleys of the Asgardian mountains and lived out her days raising smelly cattle and equally smelly children.

And her life…her life would have been so much poorer for it.

The truth was she’d never had a choice when it came to Loki. She hadn’t been lying when she told him she was likely in love with him from the moment they met. Part of her was irrevocably _his_ from that day forward – and even if he had never returned her affection, she had known innately that there wasn’t another man in the Nine Realms who would have ever surpassed him in her eyes.

In many ways, a life without Loki would have been easier – but easier didn’t always mean better or more satisfying. Their relationship had been fraught with hardship and devastation almost from the start, but she knew in her heart that given the chance she would do it all over again, and happily.

Just the thought of what she would have missed was enough to choke her with emotion – but one thing stood out above all else.

_Ari._

Their beautiful, precious son – proof that even in the darkest hour of the night, there was always a light that could never fully be extinguished. A light she hoped would illuminate their pathway back from the brink and to some semblance of happiness…provided they each survived the next few days.

* * *

As desperately as she wanted to see her son, Sigyn wasted no time upon her arrival in Asgard, going directly to the room in the palace where Odin’s war council met – only to find the doors shut and guards stationed outside. They stopped her as she tried to pass them.

“Let me in –“

“Apologies my lady, we were told no one –“

“It is _essential_ that I speak to the Allfather. Your princes’ safety is at stake –“

Before she could finish, the door opened just enough for her to see Bjornson standing on the other side.

“Sigyn! What happened?” He held the door wider to let her through. “Were you able to talk to Loki?”

“No, Radi. It’s much worse than we feared.”

“What is it, child?” Odin’s voice boomed throughout the small room from where he stood at the head of the table. “What’s worse than we feared?”

She relayed her story as quickly as she could. “Allfather,” she said when she was finished, “I know you never intended for Loki to go to Midgard, and that both of your sons will face dire consequences for their disobedience when they return home. But please, if you do not send help – they may never return at all. You cannot punish sons who are dead.”

Odin stared at her for a moment, his face a mask of anger tinged with apprehension, before he turned to the rest of the room’s occupants.

“Gather our forces. Let the Einherjar of Asgard prove their worth this day – and bring my sons back home.”

* * *

Sigyn searched the waiting Einherjar at the Bifröst terminus until she found her brother. There was one thing he could do for her.

“Edmund, I know there is no love lost between the two of you, but for my sake…for the sake of your nephew…I need you to find my husband. Please, bring him back to me.”

“I will do my best, Sigyn. If I find him, I will signal for help.”

“Thank you. And please…be safe. I could not bear to lose either of you.”

He nodded at her just as their formation began to move down the bridge to the Observatory.

Sigyn felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to find the queen, her face lined with worry.

“They will do all they can. You must have faith in Loki, my dear. If there’s one thing he’s proved again and again, you should never underestimate his skills for survival.”

“I know.”

“But if it makes you feel any better,” she continued, indicating a group of women gathering behind her, “we are prepared to send healers the moment the battle is over. I won’t risk my sons’ well-being to Midgardian healing capabilities.”

* * *

The wait was interminable.

The healers were sent to the Observatory just after the last of the Einherjar troops left. From their vantage point at the terminus, Sigyn and Frigga could see every time the Bifröst lit up to send more Asgardians down to Midgard.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, a bedraggled and bloody Einherjar soldier came back up the bridge on horseback, his eyes wide.

“Your Majesty, My Lady. We found him. But you must hurry. There isn’t much time.”

* * *

True to his word, Loki listened to her entire story, only the occasional widening of his eyes or the increased pressure on her hand as his grip became steadily tighter giving away his anger.

“That was two days ago. You were so severely injured they didn’t think you were going to make it, even with our healers helping the Midgardian doctors,” said Sigyn. “Stark said he’d never seen anything like it – that you waded right into the thick of the battle without a thought to your own safety. I was so scared, Loki. But you’re alright now, and that’s all that matters.”

He stared at her for a moment as she finished, a moment that seemed to stretch out into eternity before he spoke.

“Sigyn, you have ten seconds to convince me not to demolish this building and every last one of its occupants.”

Before she could respond, the door to the room opened. In walked Frigga, followed closely behind by Thor.

“Brother, you had us worried!” said the older prince.

“I’m so happy to see you awake, my son,” said Frigga, “There’s someone else who will be quite happy to see you, as well.”

Loki looked past them to the door to see Stark standing there, holding an infant in his hands – an infant Loki recognized at once.

“Well, well, well,” said Stark, looking at Ari – who was returning his gaze with a wide-mouthed grin. “Looks like Daddy’s awake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope this chapter makes up for the emotional devastation of the last two. :) As always, kudos/comments/bookmarks greatly appreciated.


	39. Chapter 37

Loki took in the sight of his son in Stark’s arms, the enchantment concealing Ari’s jotun appearance well in place this far from the palace. A war of conflicting emotions and reactions ran rampant through him – relief, fear, joy, anger, _love_ – but overwhelmingly, his mind conjured one scenario after another of potential tortures Ari may have been subjected to at the hands of their Midgardian hosts, each worse than the last.

Trying desperately to tamp down his panic, he turned to Sigyn. “What is he doing here?” he asked, his voice a harsh rasp.

Stark spoke before she could answer. “Well, I kinda _own_ the place…oh, you mean this little guy?” he said, bouncing Ari on his hip. “I gotta tell you, this kid is _fantastic_ ,” said Stark, stepping farther into the room. “Such great taste in people, too.” Ari gurgled up at him, reaching out to pull at the hair on the man’s chin. “Thank whatever gods you guys worship he looks so much like his mother.”

Sigyn stood quickly, crossing the room in three long strides. “Here, darling,” she said, taking Ari from Stark. “Your Papa’s awake now…come see.” Ari’s smile grew even wider in his mother’s embrace, and he set about babbling excitedly.

Loki began to raise his arms, holding them out toward his son, before going motionless. He had been so caught up in Sigyn’s story, he’d forgotten he was still in his jotun form. For his family to see him in that state was something he’d long since become accustomed to, but Stark was an entirely different matter.

He pulled his arms into himself, reaching into his mind to rearrange the bonds that controlled his appearance, and found… _nothing_. 

Not even the smallest spark of magic was within his reach. It was as though all of his abilities had been scrubbed clear; nothing remained behind to indicate he’d ever had them at all.

He stared at his hands, unable to look away.

“What have you done to me?” he asked to no one in particular. At that moment, everyone in the room was suspect.

It was Thor who answered. “Brother, forgive me – we weren’t sure how you would react upon awakening. The failsafe –“

“You _removed my powers_?”

“Not _removed_ , merely bound completely. It was for everyone’s safety –“

“Loki, we were afraid you wouldn’t give us a chance to explain what happened,” said Sigyn. “That you would wake up fighting and possibly hurt yourself or someone else in the process.”

He couldn’t fault their reasoning; if he’d had his powers at that moment, at least one person in that room would have been in desperate need of medical attention.

“So, I am stuck in this form? For everyone to see?”

“Only temporarily, brother.”

“Mother, can you not restore them? Even partially?”

“I’m afraid this spell is beyond my abilities to reverse.”

“Loki,” said Thor, “once we return to Asgard, father –“

At this, Loki’s head shot up. “So, I am once again at _Odin’s_ mercy? Do you truly believe that after all that’s happened – after you freed me from my prison _against his orders_ – that he will have the slightest compunction to leave me in this form forever? Thor, you truly are the biggest fool I’ve ever known.”

“Do you always wake up this grumpy?” asked Stark.  

Only his continued exhaustion from his injuries – and Ari’s presence – stopped Loki from jumping from the bed to throttle the insufferable Midgardian with his bare hands. He settled for a look he hoped would accurately convey his feelings instead.

“How many?” he asked through clenched teeth. “How many have seen me like this?”

“Aside from the entire team in Canada?” said Stark. “Only the necessary medical personnel on my staff. In exchange for your admittedly _coerced_ help, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been monitoring global communications to make sure your appearance has been kept secret. As far as the public knows, you helped the Avengers defeat the Chitauri threat as repayment for your crimes.”

A vague memory crept into Loki’s mind – the sensation of his armor and clothing being forcibly removed after the battle. He was currently wearing the Midgardian equivalent of sleeping garments, with no recollection of how he got into them. “Who…who put me in these clothes? Who saw me undressed?”

“You were gravely injured,” said Sigyn, attempting to pry one of Ari’s fists from her hair. “The Midgardian healers had to remove your clothing in order to stabilize your condition. If they hadn’t, you wouldn’t have survived long enough for our healers to arrive with healing stones.”

“Let me tell you,” said Stark, “the entire team was pretty, uh, _impressed_ with your physique. I thought a couple of the nurses were going to come to blows over who got to give you and your ‘royal endowment’ a sponge bath.”

Horrified, Loki opened his mouth to object, but Sigyn spoke first. “Don’t worry – no one bathed you but me. Well, I did have Thor help me a bit; only because you’re much too heavy for me to lift on my own. But no one else.”

She turned to Stark before continuing, her voice icy. “And for some reason, Mr. Stark, your staff felt the appropriate time to ask me highly personal and invasive questions about our anatomy was when my husband was fighting for his life. You might want to have a word with them about their professionalism.”

“I get it, sunshine. They might have been a little overzealous – but can you blame them? It’s not every day they have an opportunity to observe an alien up close.”

“I understand their curiosity. And if they want visual confirmation about how and whether our individual reproductive systems work together, they need only look at Ari to see that we clearly succeeded at least once.”

At this, Frigga quietly cleared her throat. “Perhaps the details of that can be discussed another time.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” said Sigyn, blushing in belated embarrassment. “It won’t be discussed now, or ever. Mr. Stark, if your medical staff wants information beyond what they can observe, they’ll have to look elsewhere. I think we’ve all done enough for your realm for now; none of us are specimens to be studied without our consent.”

Loki stared at his wife, simultaneously rendered speechless by her self-assurance and slowly going mad with frustration and anxiety from not having been able to protect her from an unwanted inquiry; but he wouldn’t give anyone the victory of watching him break down in their presence. He was just about to speak, to beg them all to leave him alone for a while, when a single, tiny voice pulled him from his despair.

“Papa,” said Ari, smiling at Loki from his perch in Sigyn’s arms. “Papa.”

Loki reached out to him once more, no longer caring about his appearance. He just needed to hold his son in his arms. Sigyn handed him over gently, reclaiming her seat on the edge of the bed.

From his half-reclined position, Loki decided the easiest way to hold Ari was to set him directly on his chest. He went to hold Ari’s hands to keep him still, only to realize he was clutching something tightly in one tiny fist. Loki reached for it…dismayed to find it was a small replica of Stark’s Iron Man armor.

_Norns be damned._

Without thinking, Loki wrenched it from his son’s hand, crushing it in his fist before throwing it across the room.

Ari blinked once, twice, took a deep breath…and _wailed_.

“Nice job, dad,” said Stark, inching closer to the bed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another toy, identical to the one Loki had just destroyed. He held it out to Ari. “Here you go, buddy. Plenty more where that came from.”

Ari took it from him, his crying settling into shuddering breaths and hiccups. He raised the tiny Iron Man to his mouth, putting the head between his front teeth with a smile.

Suitably chastened, Loki reached up to wipe a tear from Ari’s cheek. As soon as his cold fingers swiped across Ari’s skin, the enchantment dissolved away, revealing Ari’s jotun appearance.

“Holy _shit_ ,” said Stark with a gasp, giving no thought to inappropriate language in mixed company. “That’s pretty fucking incredible. You’ve _got_ to tell me how that’s done –“

“Touch him again,” said Loki, “and not even my lack of magical abilities will prevent me from forcefully removing your ability to procreate.”

“If you don’t mind,” said Sigyn, wisely stepping up before Loki could make good on his promise, “could the three of us have a moment alone?”

Stark made no indication that he’d heard either of them, continuing to stare at Ari as if mere observation would tease out his secrets. “Is it some sort of rearrangement on a cellular level? Or is my brain just being tricked into seeing something that isn’t there?” He absently made to touch Ari once more, when a large hand on his shoulder pulled him away.

“Stark,” said Thor. “As grateful as we all are for your continued aid and hospitality, it would probably be for the best if we took our leave for a while.”

Stark shook his head as if clearing out a particularly lucid dream. “Yeah, yeah…sorry. Erm, good to see you up, big guy.” He allowed Thor to usher him away, mumbling to himself about “cloaking abilities” and “practical applications”. 

Frigga approached the bed, reaching out to brush Loki’s hair from his face. It was a gesture she had used countless times in his life, one that had brought him immeasurable levels of comfort in times of distress. For one breath – and despite all he’d done and had done to him – he was no more than a little boy with his mother. He could feel himself relaxing under her gentle touch.

“Loki, rest assured that not _once_ has Ari been out of sight of at least one family member since his arrival here. We brought him so that his presence might help hearten you in your recovery – for _your_ benefit, not the Midgardians’.”

“Mother, they may have used me and Sigyn in their schemes; but I will see every Midgardian dead at my feet before I allow them to use our son.”

“I believe your wife and your brother would see to that before you even had a chance to rise from this bed.”

Loki didn’t even need to glance at Sigyn to see her vigorous nod of agreement in his peripheral vision.

“And do not trouble yourself with thoughts of what awaits you on Asgard,” continued Frigga. “Trust that Thor, Sigyn, and I are taking steps to ensure everything will be sorted out in a most agreeable manner, for everyone involved.”

She moved to tickle Ari under his chin. “For now, for these few precious moments, relax and enjoy the company of these two who love you so dearly.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

She nodded before turning toward Thor, who stood at the door waiting for her. Loki could see a few curious faces beyond his brother – some he recognized and some he did not – before they were all cut from his view as the door latched shut.

He watched Ari as he sat on his chest, spit slowly running down the face of the Iron Man toy as he happily gnawed on it; Loki silently wished that Stark himself was in the suit, drowning in his son’s drool.

“It must be so frustrating, Sigyn – the thought of raising a child with such an incompetent father.”

“You’re hardly incompetent…merely inexperienced. It gets easier with time.”

“Time? And how much time will I have with him, with _you_ , before Odin locks me up in the very bowels of the dungeons, stripped of every rudimentary luxury and forbidden from ever seeing either of you again? I would almost rather remain here at the mercy of these detestable Midgardians than to return to Asgard a fugitive and risk losing the two of you permanently.”

“After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve told you, you still have so little faith in me?”

“And what can you do against the Allfather, Sigyn?”

“On my own? Very little – which is why I will have others to assist me.”

“If you’re talking about my mother and Thor, I fail to see how they will be of any help. They didn’t keep me out of my prison the first time.”

“That was under very different circumstances, Loki. You fought _with_ the Midgardians this time, not against. If some of _them_ were willing to come to Asgard and speak on your behalf –“

“You cannot be serious.”

“I’m completely serious. Stark has already volunteered –“

“ _What?!_ Why would he do that?”

“To help.”

“No. He has reasons beyond that.”

“He’s curious about Asgard, of course. He’s a scientist – it’s in his nature.”

“So, he’s helping for his own selfish motives?”

“He’s not as terrible as you would like to believe – something I’ve had to repeatedly remind him about you as well. You know, the two of you are very similar –“

“I’m _nothing_ like him.”

“Oh, my mistake,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Nothing like him at all. Your mother, Thor and I are all in agreement that out of our admittedly limited choices, bringing him to Asgard to speak for you is the wisest course of action. He’s willing to do what he can – if not for _you_ specifically, then for Thor, for me, and for Ari.”

At the mention of his name, Ari cooed around his fist, his precious Iron Man toy having finally been dropped from his grip and forgotten. Sigyn reached over and secreted it away before he could notice it again.

“We can discuss the particulars later,” she said, stretching out beside Loki on the bed. “Do you realize that this is the first time the three of us have been alone together like this? It’s almost… _domestic_.”  

“Domestic,” said Loki, the word rolling across his tongue like a sharp-edged pebble. “How terrifying.”

* * *

It was another two days before Loki felt strong enough to leave his makeshift recovery room, and even then it took hours for Sigyn to convince him that there wasn’t a crowd of hostiles waiting outside the doors to ambush him.

He was grateful she’d had the foresight to bring him more clothing from Asgard. As he dressed, he watched Ari as he pulled himself up to standing using the sofa near the window as leverage. He traversed the length of it on shaky legs; before long, he’d be walking unassisted. Loki hoped he wouldn’t be watching his son’s first steps from behind a prison wall, or even worse, miss them entirely.

“The Warriors Three and Sif returned home yesterday,” said Sigyn, valiantly attempting to hold Loki steady as he slipped on his boots, “but not before Fandral nearly learned firsthand what a Midgardian “Taser” feels like, courtesy of Dr. Foster’s assistant. He’s gone far too long with Asgardian maidens throwing themselves into his bed on a whim. I think he was surprised that a mere _Midgardian_ would be so completely resistant to his charms.”

Loki had to chuckle to himself at that, sorry he’d missed a chance to see Fandral rebuffed.

“Most of the Avengers are busy assisting S.H.I.E.L.D. with the cleanup and recovery from the Chitauri attack,” she continued. “Stark remains here; there are important details he wishes to discuss with you about our impending departure.”

“He is still determined to accompany us?”

“Yes. Dr. Foster has been invited as well.”

Thor no doubt had encouraged that, Loki was certain. He wondered for a moment how Sif felt about their complicated relationship before pushing the thought aside. His brother had a long road ahead of him on that front; Loki feared it would be one of the few times in their long lives where his attempts at counsel would be unwelcome.

“She must be quite anxious for the opportunity,” was all he said.

“Oh, yes. By her reaction, you would have thought she’d been offered the throne of Asgard itself.”

His smile was rueful. “That’s not as great a reward as I once thought it was.”

Sigyn’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Loki. I didn’t mean –“

He shook his head, pulling her to him. “I only meant…for too long, a kingdom was a prize I sought above all others, thinking that alone would bring me satisfaction. Instead, my pursuit brought nothing but destruction and ruin – and very nearly cost me your companionship.”

“You can’t be rid of me that easily.”

“I don’t want to be rid of you, beloved. Not ever. That you would willingly stay with me remains my second greatest accomplishment – shadowed only by the gift you have given me in our son.”    

“He is a gift to us both.” She reached up for a small kiss. “And are you now satisfied?”

“It’s not in my nature to be satisfied, Sigyn. But I can be content in my dissatisfaction, with you by my side.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Was that an attempt at flattery? Because honestly, I’m feeling a little offended.”

“Forgive me – my silver tongue is rather out of practice.”

“Well, you’ll just have to remedy that.”

“Oh, I intend to.” He leaned back into her, kissing her again with purpose before remembering himself and pulling back. “It’s probably best my powers have been bound,” he said, his voice low. “I’m feeling much recovered; had I the ability to revert from this form, Stark would find his wait for us to be interminable.”

“I would have you, regardless of your form, Loki,” she said, sighing when he scowled at her for the suggestion. “But not here, and not now. You’re not fully recovered, no matter what you might think – and I won’t risk Stark’s medical staff acquiring any more knowledge of our intimate life, no matter how innocuous.” 

He bristled. “I’d hardly call our intimate life _innocuous_.”

“No, for now I’ll call it nonexistent. But when we’re home, and healthy, and settled, I’m all yours. Besides,” she added with a grin, “right now we have an audience.”

They looked over to find Ari looking up at them, grinning as though he knew all their secrets.

* * *

Stark, Dr. Foster, Frigga and Thor were waiting for them in the meeting room; it felt cavernous and deserted compared to the last time they’d been in it.

“Wow, you’re not even limping,” said Stark. “Any chance I can learn more about your magical healing arts in Asgard?”

“I’m not the one to ask,” said Loki as they took their seats. “No one felt the need to consult me on this plan before this morning.”

“Well, we’re consulting you now. There’s one bit of unfinished business with the Chitauri – something, it seems, that will require your assistance.”

“After all I’ve done – you have the nerve to request even _more_?”

“Just listen to him, brother,” said Thor. “I think you’ll be very interested in what he has to say.”

Loki took a deep breath before returning his gaze to Stark. “Go on.”

“Our combined forces were very thorough with the Chitauri – we destroyed nearly all of them. All but one. I believe you called him ‘The Other’.”

Loki couldn’t stifle the jolt in his body at this new information. “That creature still lives?”

“As far as we can tell, yes – inside a giant block of enchanted ice.”

Loki had been unable to return to him in the melee after encasing him, later thinking he’d been eradicated along with all the others. But now…it seemed the fates had given him one more chance for vengeance.

“Hmmmm. And you can’t remove him from it.”

“We’ve tried every weapon and tool at our disposal, and short of nuking him into oblivion, we’ve run out of options. For obvious reasons, we’d prefer to keep him in one piece so we can pick whatever passes for a brain about _his_ boss. Is that something you’d be willing to help with?”

Loki remained silent for a long while, considering his words, when finally he turned to Sigyn. “Would you and my mother mind taking Ari outside for just a moment?”

She stared at him, the urge to defy him for coddling her clear on her face, but he didn’t look away. Finally, she nodded at Frigga, and the two women stepped outside.

As soon as the door shut, Jane spoke.

“She’s a grown woman, not a child. I don’t think she appreciates you treating her like one.”

“Dr. Foster,” said Loki, “Sigyn is an ambassador, trained in the art of diplomacy. Her instincts lie toward reason and peaceful discussion. I intend to use neither of those skills on that creature.” He could see Sigyn just outside the room, Ari in her arms, watching them through the window.

“You are a scientist,” he continued, “as is Stark. My brother is a warrior. None of you will be horrified or even surprised to learn just what I’m willing to do to get your information.”

“I don’t think your wife would be surprised, either,” said Jane.

“Likely not. But hearing me voice it is a far cry from merely suspecting it. I would keep her and my mother from that direct knowledge for as long as possible; you will just have to forgive me for sending them away.”

He turned back to Stark. “As you well know, I currently have no ability to remove him from the enchantment, not with my powers bound as they are. But if Odin can be convinced to restore them, to allow me to live as a free man with my family, then I can assure you – I can and will gain _all_ the information you seek. With _unmitigated_ pleasure.”

“Excellent –“

“ _Provided_ ,” continued Loki, “he returns to Asgard with us…and that _no one_ questions my methods of interrogation.”

“I’m not sure I can –“

“Those are my demands, Stark. Meet them…or The Other remains as he is.”

“All right then. I’ll do my best to make it happen. What exactly are you planning on doing to him anyway?”

Loki smiled, a half-crazed grin utterly devoid of humor. “Let’s just say – what was done to me in his company will pale in comparison. Your medical staff was quite eager to learn about alien anatomy. Rest assured, when I’m finished with him, I will supply them with more data than they ever dreamed possible.”

* * *

Two days later, Sigyn found herself once more in the clearing in Alaska, preparing to go home. She knew Midgard was a realm she would come to visit often, but she hoped it would be some time before she had to return – and then only under better circumstances.

Thor and Stark were supervising a small group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents as they unloaded the equipment and packages that would be going to Asgard with them – among them, a particularly large box containing the single Chitauri survivor. Sigyn had asked Loki what he intended to do with the creature, only to be met with silence – and a look that implied she really didn’t want to know. She hadn’t asked again.

Eventually, everyone was settled. Ari was fast asleep on Sigyn’s shoulder; Frigga had conjured a cocoon of sorts around her body to protect him in the journey through the Bifröst. Loki stood next to her, smoothing his hand over Ari’s back, his eyes distant.

“Everything will be fine, love,” she said, trying her best to comfort him. “You must believe that.”

“I hope you’re right. But just in case – kiss me once more before we leave. If they drag me away upon our arrival, I want your taste on my lips when they do.”

“Such a way with words. And I thought you said your silver tongue was out of practice.”

She leaned into him, their son cradled between their bodies, the Bifröst lighting up around them just as they pulled apart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're on the final homestretch for this story - many thanks again for all the comments/kudos/bookmarks/favorites. Next chapter should be up next Monday, right on schedule. :)


	40. Chapter 38

The first thing Loki registered upon their arrival in the Observatory – other than the uninhibited gasps of delight from both Jane  _and_  Stark – was the sight of the Allfather himself standing just behind Heimdall, two stiffly postured rows of Einherjar on the bridge beyond.

Loki took Sigyn’s hand in his once more and squeezed it gently. “He’s deigned to meet us here rather than the palace – and with guards, no less. That doesn’t bode well. I would say to hope for the best, but it’s probably better if you prepare for the worst.”

“I’ve been prepared for the worst for far too long, Loki. Just once, I’d like to be pleasantly surprised.”

 Frigga stepped forward briskly, curtsying to her husband. “My King…what an unexpected honor for you to meet us yourself.”

Almost everyone else in the room followed suit immediately; Sigyn and Jane mirrored the queen’s genuflection, with Thor bowing to him. Stark was too busy studying the Observatory mechanism to take notice of his own impudence, until a sharp elbow from Jane caught his attention long enough for him to correct his mistake.

Loki remained upright, determined to show no obeisance to his false father – but when he stole a quick glance Sigyn’s direction, she was looking back at him in incredulous wonder. With an audible sigh, he finally lowered his head…but refused to bend his knees.

“Father,” said Thor, “this is Anthony Stark and Dr. Jane Foster of Midgard. They bring important information regarding the Chitauri attack and our involvement.” The two Midgardians approached Odin at Thor’s beckoning.

“Jane Foster, Anthony Stark,” said Thor, “may I introduce His Majesty, King Odin, Allfather and Protector of the Nine Realms.”

Odin regarded the newcomers with measured coolness. “I am fully aware of the reasons for your presence. You will be granted an audience with myself and my advisors before the day is out. For now, we have other business to attend to.”

He then turned to the head Einherjar guard. “You know your orders. Carry them out as we discussed.”

The Einherjar stepped forward, and Sigyn’s grip on Loki’s hand went tight.

“I’ll beg them to take us with you,” she said, her voice barely audible. “They can throw us all in the dungeons together.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” he said, but he didn’t drop her hand.

She didn’t even look at him, drawing in a breath to speak; quickly expelling it once again when it became clear they weren’t approaching Loki at all – but rather the boxes containing the equipment and belongings they had brought with them from Midgard, including The Other. They gathered everything with efficiency and speed – pointedly ignoring Dr. Foster’s repeated admonitions to use caution in their handling – before carrying it off down the Bifröst and toward the palace.

“They’re not going to throw that stuff in the water, are they?” asked Stark. “I mean, it’s not all impossible to replace, but it would be pretty time consuming.”

“Your equipment and belongings are perfectly safe,” said Odin. “If you would, please follow the guards to the palace. Our staff will show you to your quarters upon your arrival. For now, I would speak to my son… _alone_.”

“Well, in that case,” said Loki, “good luck, Thor.”

Odin sighed, the sound full of weariness and regret. “It is  _you_  I wish to speak to, Loki.”

Sigyn looked at him, her eyes pleading with him to rein in his tongue. “Please, restrain yourself. Let’s not actively  _try_  to make things worse than they need to be.”

He clenched his jaw, leaning forward to kiss Ari’s head. “I’ve held my tongue long enough, Sigyn; I will have my say. If he is determined to punish me further, I can’t imagine my words will have any effect on the outcome.”

She threw her free arm around his neck, leaning in closely to whisper in his ear. “I love you. I’ll see you inside.” She kissed his cheek and stepped away, approaching Odin to speak to him.

Ari smiled at Odin as they drew near to him – babbling something that sounded far too much like  _Afa_  for Loki’s liking, and not enough like  _Tyrant_. Loki couldn’t hear what Sigyn was saying, but as he watched, Odin smiled back at Ari, allowing him to grab his finger while he listened.

A flare of envy, white hot and painful, shot through Loki; but he would have been hard pressed to describe just whom it was directed towards. Odin, for reaping such undeserved affection from Ari? Or to Ari – for reaping affection from Odin, affection Loki himself had always felt denied? With great effort, Loki smothered his urge to lash out, to scream at Odin to leave his son alone.

Sigyn looked back in Loki’s direction – once more silently begging him to be on his best behavior – before following the rest of their party out the door, and down the Bifröst.

Loki remained where he stood, his posture rigid. Let the mighty Allfather approach him and speak first – even with no one to witness it, he wouldn’t give his false father the satisfaction of making him beg for leniency.

Odin stepped closer, but to Loki’s surprise, circled around him instead to approach the front of the Observatory. Loki couldn’t help but turn to face him – partially out of curiosity, but also for fear of having Odin at his back.

“I remember the first time my father brought me here,” said Odin, staring out at the stars. “Though, of course, it was all different then – the Observatory, the guardian, even the constellations in the sky. It was all less…burdensome. More magical.”

“What’s this?” asked Loki, his impatience getting the best of him. “A little father and son bonding time before you pronounce your judgment? If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you just get on with it.”

Odin turned to him, and Loki was struck by just how frail he looked. How ancient. Loki’s stomach turned at the sight; the man who had held such sway over him and his happiness for so long – this giant of a king and  _father_  – was quickly revealing himself to be just as vulnerable as any other being. Just as  _mortal_.

“I am still your  _king_ , Loki. And your father, whether you acknowledge me as such or not.”

Loki ground his teeth together so hard he could hear his jaw creak. “And what of your precious older son? Is he not to suffer your reprimands for  _his_  disobedience to you?”

“Do not think Thor will avoid answering for his defiance, Loki. But right now,  _you_  will listen to what I have to say.”

“Then by all means… _say it_.”

“The Einherjar I sent to Midgard, the Lady Sif, the Warriors Three – they have all been questioned extensively about what occurred there. They have shared countless stories about acts of bravery against the Chitauri threat – with one common thread amongst them. They all concur that  _you_  fought harder than anyone, that you were merciless in your vengeance – and that without your aid, the day would have been lost.”

Loki was stunned by this revelation. He’d hoped that the Aesir warriors and his former friends would at least not speak disparagingly about him upon their return to Asgard – but for them to credit him with the largest portion of their victory was wholly unexpected. But even his surprise couldn’t fully keep him silent.

“That must have been painful, to speak so highly of a filthy  _jotun_. I do hope they aren’t permanently scarred by it.”

“They spoke of you as their prince and a fellow warrior, nothing more.”

“Out of fear, no doubt; but I suppose there’s nothing to be done about it now. I don’t imagine you’ll be able to let this stand, will you? Me having fully revealed my true nature to so many? It’s not something you can keep hidden any longer, Allfather, no matter how hard you try.”

“It’s certainly not how I envisioned this happening, my son.”

Loki bristled at Odin’s use of “son”, but let it slide, too angry to care anymore. “So, is that why we’re having this little chat  _here_? Do you plan on ridding Asgard of my presence via the Bifröst this time?” he asked, indicating the Observatory mechanism, “or should I prepare to be tossed from the edge again?” He laughed bitterly. “I suppose I should thank you for sending my wife and child away first; it would be a shame for them to have to witness my demise.”

“Is that what you think I wish to do? Deprive your wife of her husband? Your son of his father?”

“I can’t imagine it would be much of an inconvenience for you, or very difficult for that matter. You did, after all, deprive my father of his son.”

“I did no such thing. You were never truly Laufey’s son –“

“Well my  _skin_  certainly says otherwise,” hissed Loki, holding his palms out. “Or is your remaining eye now as useless as the one you lost? Look at me!” 

“I see you now, just as I saw you all those years ago. You were discarded and abandoned like so much rubbish; I saved you from certain death.”

“And what choice have I but to believe that? For all I know, you tore me from my mother’s arms and butchered her where she stood.”

“Does your hatred for me know no bounds that you truly think me so cruel? So heartless?”

“I no longer know  _what_  to think of you.”

Odin dropped his head in defeat. “I suppose uncertainty is better than hate – but I hope you never feel the sting of either from  _your_  son.”

Rage welled up in Loki, and his words were like a whip from his tongue. “Do  _not_  bring my son into this. He will  _never_  feel about me the way I feel about you. He will never feel less than, he will never feel unworthy, he will never feel _unloved_.”

“And I hope without reservation that you are right. But do not fool yourself into thinking you are infallible, Loki. You will spend years doing what you believe to be right by your child, only to find out far too late that you were wrong.”

“Well, I hardly think I could do worse than you.”

“I’ve only ever acted out of concern for your well-being. For your own good.”

“Is that truly how you see your actions?” said Loki, his voice rising with every word. “Raising me in my brother’s shadow, a false Aesir prince trained to hate Jotunheim and all it represented, never the wiser to the truth – but it was  _for my own good_. You were only acting in my  _best interests_.”

“Where would you be now, had I left you behind? Long dead, your carcass buried if you were lucky, left for the creatures of the Jotunheim waste if you were not. Instead, you were raised in abundance, a prince of the most powerful of the nine realms.”

“I suppose that alone should earn you my undying gratitude?”

“Detest my actions all you like, but without them, you wouldn’t have your wife, or your son to raise with her.”

“It must gall you, to see her so devoted to one so undeserving.”

“On the contrary. To see her devotion to you so thoroughly reciprocated gives me hope. Hope that with her, you will be the best husband and father – the best  _man_  – you have the potential to be.”

“And are you granting me the freedom to be those things? To raise Ari with Sigyn – by her side,  _not_  from a prison cell?”

“That is my most fervent desire. However, our Midgardian guests have traveled a very long way to speak on your behalf. I will hear what they have to say before I make my final decision.”

The thought that Tony Stark would have any kind of say in Loki’s potential freedom was infuriating, but Loki said nothing about it. He would, this once, emulate his wife and hope to be pleasantly surprised.

“What of my powers?” he asked instead. “Am I to be stripped of them permanently?”

“I have no plans to leave you powerless, Loki. If what your Midgardian friends tell me corresponds with what I have already learned, you will have more than proven yourself worthy not only of your freedom, but also your powers.”

Loki’s vocabulary was extensive – he’d used it to devastating effect countless times before – but he couldn’t conjure a single phrase to his lips to adequately express both his grudging gratitude and his continued resentment simultaneously. He settled on a stiff nod.

 _Worthy_. Such a small word, but powerful enough to make Loki’s legs go weak.  _I have always been a worthy son, Allfather. How much grief could we have avoided had you realized that sooner?_

Odin stepped closer, placing his hand on Loki’s shoulder. “I am old and weary. When next I feel the pull of the Odinsleep, it could be as all the others before – or I may never awaken from it again. When I am called to Valhalla, I will go with a great many regrets; but I would have you call me Father once again before I am gone.”

Loki stared at him, unblinking for fear the tears in his eyes would be unstoppable if he let them fall. It was a simple request – but try as he might, it was one he couldn’t grant. He shook his head gently. “Not today.”  

If his answer angered Odin, he had the grace not to show it. “So be it. Then let us return to the palace. Your wife and son will be most anxious to see you free and unharmed.” He had turned to walk toward the Observatory doors, when Loki stopped him.

“Wait. The Chitauri creature – what have you done with him?”

“He has been taken to the dungeons. You will have whatever time and tools you need to glean information from him.”

“And the guards? They will allow me unrestricted access to him?”

“You will receive no resistance from them in your endeavors, and no one will question your methods. The Einherjar fought well on Midgard, but they did not come away without casualties. The survivors would not want their fallen brethren to have died in vain.”

* * *

The terminus of the Bifröst was virtually empty as Odin and Loki approached it, save for two people – Sigyn and Ari. She was sitting on a bench, watching Ari as he stood next to her, excitedly slapping the surface of the stone as he made his way around the edge.

She stood with a gasp the moment they came into her view, meeting Loki halfway as he rushed to greet her, sweeping her up into his arms with no thought to the ache of his still-healing wounds.

Her voice was tearful in his ear. “Has he freed you?”

“It seems so, beloved.”

She made no further reply; instead she dropped to the ground and rushed to Odin, throwing her arms around his neck in a mad display of relief and thankfulness.

Loki had to look away before his anger could get the best of him – when he turned Ari’s direction, he was looking back at him; Loki was shocked to see only the tips of Ari's fingers on one hand remaining on the stone bench.

“Papa,” he said, and let go completely.

Loki approached him slowly before going down onto one knee and holding his hands out to his son. “Yes, that’s it. Come to me, Ari.”

Ari stared at his father for a breath, his legs shaky but strong. And then – a small movement of his foot, and he stepped forward once…twice…and promptly fell to the ground, far from his intended goal. He didn’t cry, merely smiling around the fingers jammed in his mouth.

Loki had him scooped up into his arms without another thought, praising him effusively, all resentment and irritation forgotten in his joy. “That was wonderful! I’m so proud of you!” He spun to face Odin and Sigyn. “Did you see?”

Sigyn ran to them, wrapping both of them up in her embrace.

“Did you see?” asked Loki once more, lowering his forehead to Sigyn’s shoulder and dissolving into tears.

* * *

It was decided that Loki would not sit in on the meetings with Stark and Dr. Foster, for fear his presence would affect their candor. Loki didn’t argue, knowing that being in Loki's company had the potential to exacerbate Stark's belligerence, even if he  _was_  trying to be helpful. 

Sigyn, on the other hand, was given the opportunity to be a part of the discussions, if only to reiterate facts she had already divulged and object to anything she knew to be false. Any worries she may have had, however, proved to be unfounded within the first few minutes of the meeting with Stark.

“We can skip all the formality,” he said once he’d been seated in Odin’s council chambers. “Earth – sorry,  _Midgard_  – has no reason to demand Loki’s continued incarceration. He fought like hell for us against the Chitauri. If I had to guess, he likely killed ten himself for every one anyone else was able to finish off.”

“And what do you feel prompted his change of heart regarding your realm, Mr. Stark?” asked Odin. “When last he was there, he made no secret of wanting to rule it.” He had already been thoroughly apprised of the reasons for Loki’s berserker rage, but Sigyn figured he wanted to hear it directly from the Midgardian himself.

Stark nodded at Sigyn. “It was her,” he said simply. “Or what he thought was her, being violently murdered before his eyes. He just… _snapped_. Can’t say I blame him really; she’s cute, smart, and I have to admit…their combined genetics is pretty adorable. He clearly wants to keep her around for a while.”

“You concede, then, that he fought more for his wife than for your realm. Now that she has been returned to him, what makes you certain that he won’t attempt to rule your world once more?”

“Something tells me Loki’s got a more important purpose now than the subjugation of Earth.  _Midgard_ , sorry. I don’t think I’m ever going to get that right.”

“So, you no longer fear Loki’s wrath – indeed, you also wish for his continued assistance. With the Chitauri creature you brought with you.”

“He seemed pretty eager to help in that regard. And yeah, if  _that_ creature’s boss comes around, I think both our worlds would like to know what we’re up against.”

“In this we both agree, Mr. Stark. I shall hear Dr. Foster’s thoughts first, but know that I am of a mind to grant Loki the return of his powers. With them, he will be able to collect any information you seek.”

“Fabulous,” said Stark, slapping his palms on his legs. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to attend those diplomatic negotiations. I want to see exactly what a fully powered and operational Loki is capable of; that way if he ever changes his mind about Midgard, we’ll be better prepared for our defense.”

* * *

Loki was waiting for Sigyn outside the council room when the meetings were over.

“How did it go?” he asked, the eagerness in his voice betraying his attempt at nonchalance.

“Really well,” she said. “Both Stark and Dr. Foster spoke highly of you – though I’m certain Dr. Foster had more questions for Odin than answers to his inquiries. The king was rather won over by her exuberance; he’s granted her unprecedented access to the palace library, as well as the Observatory.”

“Thor must be pleased, although I’m not sure Sif shares his happiness.”

“I wouldn’t count Sif out just yet. She’s a strategist, and she doesn’t like to lose.”

He smiled. “On a happier note, Mother informed me that my chambers will be unsealed by this time tomorrow, with plans for making them a bit more  _family_  appropriate.”

“So, we will have a home. The three of us, together,” she said, her voice soft. “I’ve dreamt of this for so long, Loki. I truly feared it would never come to pass.”

“It wouldn’t have, not without your persistence.”

“Is that an acknowledgement of just how lost you would be without me?”

“I suppose it is. Don’t let it go to your head," he said, kissing her soundly with no thought to anyone who might be watching.

* * *

They were in Sigyn’s chambers later that evening, preparing for dinner, when there was a knock on the door. Sigyn answered it, shocked to find Odin himself on the other side.

“Allfather,” she said, awkwardly curtsying to him in her shock. “Please, come in.”

“Thank you, Sigyn,” he said. “I won’t be long. I have one last bit of business with Loki before we greet our guests.”

She led him to the balcony, where Loki was crouched next to Ari, attempting to get him to take a few more steps with varying degrees of success. Loki rose as soon as he saw them, his posture defensive. It was painful to watch; Sigyn knew it would be some time before the wounds between the two men were healed, if ever. She could only hope, for Loki’s sake, that he could make peace with Odin before it was too late.

“Loki, an official announcement will be made to the realm tomorrow, but I see no reason to make you wait. As your king, I hereby decree you released from your imprisonment, with all rights and titles of a prince of the realm restored to you.” He stepped closer, cupping Loki’s neck in his hand and whispering the words to restore his powers.

Sigyn could see the relief as it washed over Loki’s face; he released a stuttering breath, visibly shaken by the return of his abilities.

He wasted no time reverting back to his Aesir form; even if Loki never judged Ari for his natural appearance, Sigyn knew accepting it in himself would take Loki far longer.

“Thank you,” he said to Odin, when he was calm enough to speak. “Thank you.”

For a moment, Odin looked as if he wanted to say something more, perhaps even to embrace his son – but he refrained, settling instead for a simple nod before retreating back the way he came.

~~~~~~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We got a lot of resolution in this chapter, but we're not quite finished. One more "regular" chapter to go (hopefully on Monday!), and then the Epilogue, with a possible bonus after that. My continued humble gratitude to those who have followed this story from the beginning, and those who have joined me mid-journey. I appreciate all of you more than you know. :)


	41. Chapter 39

“Mama, do I have to wear this? It’s _itchy_.” The last word, stretched out into more syllables than required, was accompanied by a petulant bouncing of shoulders and stomping of feet – the kind only a six year old child was truly capable of mastering.

“It’s your grandmother’s birthday celebration, my little prince,” said Sigyn as she knelt before Ari, smoothing the sleeves of his overcoat. “I know you’re happiest when covered in dust and filth, dearest, but I think you’ll survive being forced to look presentable for a few hours’ time.”

“But _Mama_ –“

“I wouldn’t argue with her if I were you. You won’t win.”

Sigyn shot a glance at Loki over her shoulder. He was sitting on the edge of their bed, absently adjusting the overlapping fabric of his breeches; he kept his eyes down, but the grin on his face told her he was acutely aware she was scowling at him. She turned back to their son.

“Your papa’s right, you know. If anyone knows just how persistent I can be, it’s him. Now go,” she said, shooing him away. “Get your boots on, and quickly. It won’t do for us to be late.”

“Yes, Mama,” he said with a resigned frown, running out the door toward his chambers.

“Careful now,” she called after him. “Don’t slip and hurt yourself!”

Loki had silently sneaked up behind her, and two strong arms slipped around her waist, one hand splayed across her belly. “Always so worried about him,” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“And you’re not?”

“No. He’s my son. He’s resilient.”

“Correction,” she said, turning in his arms to look up at him. “He’s _our_ son. And yes, he’s resilient – but I’d rather not have him go to your mother’s celebration sporting a bruise on that thick head of his.”

“Like I said, he’s your son. Obstinacy runs in the family.”

“I don’t think he inherited that from me, love.”

“I’m certain he did,” Loki said. She started to reply, but he stopped her with a kiss so passionate she forgot whatever it was she was going to say.

Her fingers wound their way into the hair at the nape of his neck. It was longer than it had ever been, nearly to the middle of his back, one of the many concessions he’d made to her since his release from prison. She loved the softness of it, the feel of it on her skin, the way it looked as it fell around his face like a curtain when he was perched over her, inside her, _and by the heavens, Sigyn, you need to stop thinking about that right this minute before you get carried away –_

She deepened the kiss, pulling him as flush to her as possible, and she swore she could _feel_ him smirking…when Ari’s voice interrupted.  

“I think I need new boots,” he said, standing in the doorway and staring at his feet. “These don’t feel right.”

“That’s because you’ve got them on the wrong feet,” said Loki, fixing the mistake with a wave of his hand. He pulled Sigyn close, whispering in her ear. “We’ll continue this later.”

 _Yes later_ , she thought, _and then later again and then later once more._ Her desire for him, already a near constant hum in her mind, had in recent days become a full symphony, nearly drowning out all else with its pervasiveness. She knew it would abate soon, but she feared she would go mad before it did. 

Loki stepped away from her to scoop Ari up into his arms. “You look very handsome, my little prince.”

“Papa, will you wear your blue skin tonight? So we can match?” Ari’s face was cautiously earnest, but not fearful. Loki had taken great pains to make sure Ari was never afraid of him – not the way Loki had been of Odin.

“Would you like that?”

“Yes, Papa. No one else looks like me but you.”

Loki shifted into his jotun form, grinning at Ari. “Well, no one looks as good as us, either. How sad for them.”

“I’m sorry you don’t look as good as us, Mama,” said Ari.

Sigyn smiled at him; he was a near perfect miniature of his father in every way, right down to the matching outfits. Only Ari’s blue eyes gave away his half-Aesir nature. “Well, I’m so grateful you tolerate me and my unsightliness,” she said.

“Un..site..ness,” said Ari, sounding it out slowly. “What does that mean?”

“It means she’s a hideous troll who’s fortunate to have a couple of attractive men like us who are so willing to put up with her.”

“Papa! Mama’s not hideous. She’s beautiful.”

“I suppose she’s not bad for someone with pink skin.”

He was laughing with Ari, the picture of contentment, but Sigyn was all too aware of just how difficult it still was for Loki to be in his jotun form, especially as he would be that evening…in a crowded banquet hall, surrounded by people who not-so-secretly mistrusted him for what he truly was. It was never spoken of aloud – he was still a prince of the realm, and powerful enough to demand severe punishment be meted out to anyone who was openly defiant to him – but Loki was far too observant to miss the looks, the sidelong glances, the whispers as he passed.

But for Ari, he would endure.

* * *

_The rumors have spread quickly throughout the realm in the wake of the second Chitauri invasion of Midgard, word that the second Odinson is not Aesir at all, but a Frost Giant. Explanations run the gamut – from Loki being a prisoner of war, to the product of an illicit affair between the king and a jotun princess – until the din becomes too loud for Odin to continue to ignore. Loki finally approaches the Allfather himself._

_“My king,” he says, still unable yet to form the word_ father _, “inform the realm of my origins. Put an end to the incessant gossip. Left to their own devices, your subjects will make their own stories, and they will grow in severity and absurdity until anything you say will be lost to them. Tell them the truth.”_

_“Are you prepared for what will happen if I do?”_

_“I’ll never be fully prepared. But it must be done, and soon. And also,” he adds quickly, “I would have you remove the enchantment hiding Ari’s jotun appearance permanently.”_

_“He is an innocent child. His safety must come first –“_

_“I will keep him safe,” Loki says, and he’s never been more sincere. “In every way I can. But I will not have him grow any older behind a disguise. He will be a catalyst for change in Asgard, and in me. I would have him look upon me with trust, never with doubt that I love him exactly as he is.” His words had been carefully chosen, sharp enough to cut Odin deeply._

_“If that is what you wish, then I will make it so.”_

* * *

The celebration was spectacular; the food was plentiful, the wine and mead flowed freely, there was dancing, merriment, and fireworks conjured by Loki himself.

It was nearly impossible to keep Ari confined to his seat. Every time Sigyn would go looking for him, he was with another member of the family: turning his nose up at the roasted vegetables with his Uncle Thor; attempting to hide from her behind the Allfather’s chair; play fighting against Fandral with a fork until the warrior “died” quite dramatically, praising the small boy’s superior skills with his final breath.

She finally found him sitting with her mother – and her mother’s new husband, Ambassador Bjornson. Ari was listening to Radi tell him a story, a tale of derring-do on a distant realm that had the boy so completely engrossed he didn’t even notice Sigyn approaching.

“There you are, my little prince,” she said. “I do hope you’re behaving yourself for your Amma Dagmar and Afa Radi.”

“Oh, he’s the picture of good behavior,” said Dagmar.

“Indeed,” said Radi. “He says he wants to be an ambassador himself one day.”

“That’s a lot of work and responsibility, Ari,” said Sigyn. “Would you be up to the challenge?”

“Yes, Mama. Then you and I can be ambassadors together, and travel to all the other realms.”

“That would be wonderful, darling. But right now, you need to come wish your Amma Frigga a happy birthday.”

She took his hand and led him back to the dais at the front of the room; the remaining members of the royal family had returned to their seats in anticipation of the cake being served. Frigga and Odin sat in the middle, with Thor on one side, and Loki on the other. He smiled broadly as they approached.

“Happy birthday, Your Majesty,” said Ari to the queen, just as they’d practiced it. “Are we going to have cake soon?”

“Thank you, precious. And yes, I believe the cake is on its way –“

“Oh, good! Papa says I can have _two_ pieces.”

“He did?” asked Sigyn, perplexed. “Why would he tell you that?”

“He said I can have your piece, too, because the baby in your belly is making you sick.”

Sigyn’s eyes went wide, and she snapped her head her husband’s direction. He looked back at her sheepishly; this was not how they’d discussed revealing the news.

“Wait – what did you say?” asked Frigga, trying but failing to hide her smile.

“Papa says I can have Mama’s piece of cake.”

“No…the other part, precious. Is there a baby in your mama’s belly?”

“Uh huh, and it’s making her sick. I don’t think that’s very nice. I asked Papa how it got in there, and he said he doesn’t know.”

Thor nearly choked on his tankard of mead. 

Frigga raised an eyebrow and looked at her younger son. “Oh, I think he might have an idea. You should ask him about it again when you’re older.”

“I will. Is it time for the cake now? I really want cake.”

“Aren’t you happy about being a big brother?” asked Frigga.

“Um,” said Ari, poking his lower lip out and trying desperately not to be rude – but he clearly had more pressing issues on his six-year-old mind than the still-abstract concept of a sibling. “I just want cake.”

Frigga laughed. “Then cake you shall have, precious. As many pieces as you like.”

Sigyn started to object, “Your Majesty, I don’t know –“ but the queen cut her off.

“Grandmother’s prerogative,” she said simply. “It seems we all have much to celebrate this evening.”

* * *

An hour later, Ari was passed out on Loki’s shoulder, his tiny boots and overcoat long since abandoned under one of the many enormous tables. His third piece of cake had finally done him in, and Sigyn had a sneaking suspicion it would be very difficult to get him to eat any sort of proper food the next day.

With a final kiss to the top of his head, Loki passed Ari off to his faithful nursemaid, Dalla, for her to see him to bed.

“He’s not going to be very happy, having to share her with the new baby,” said Sigyn, watching as she carried him away.

“No, he isn’t,” said Loki. “We’ve got a little time to prepare him, at least.” He looked down at his wife. “Stay a little longer, and then meet me on the terrace. I have some business to take care of first.”

“Business? What kind of business?”

“Nothing important. Just some books I promised to gather for Father.”

It still made Sigyn enormously happy to hear Loki call Odin _father_. “All right. But don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“You’ll barely miss me.”

* * *

The dungeons were unusually quiet that night. Half the guards were at the queen’s celebration; those who remained behind were unsurprised to see Loki when he appeared, very late even for him.

They never questioned why he was there, or whom he was there to see.

Loki walked the well-worn path to the farthest cell, the one he himself used to call home.

Its more recent occupant was right where Loki had left him – chained to the wall at a height that allowed for neither standing nor lying down. Exactly as Loki had been all those years ago.

Loki was a changed man in all the ways that mattered. But some things about him would _never_ change – especially his thirst for vengeance against those who had hurt him.

He let himself into the cell and approached the creature, lifting his head to regard him coldly.

The Other’s vocal cords had long been ruined from screaming, but even if he’d had the ability to make a sound, he would have been unable to open his mouth to form words. They had been slowly and thoroughly sewn shut by Loki himself, and would remain so until he had nearly succumbed to starvation.

 _Nearly_ , but not quite.

Only then would Loki rip the threads from his lips, force him to eat until he was brought back from the brink of death, and start again.

But he had no plans for any of this that night. _This_ …this was a night for celebration.

Loki crouched before him, to look him directly in the eye. He wanted to see his victory in the creature’s gaze.

“You thought you’d beaten me. That you’d destroyed me, destroyed my wife. But you were wrong, you inconsequential maggot. _I_ live. _She_ lives, and she carries my child within her. And long after I’m done with you, I will live on. My children, my grandchildren – _they_ will live on. And you…you will be a memory to no one.”

Loki ran a finger across the creatures sealed lips and smiled.

“Enjoy your reprieve for the night. I’ll be back soon to resume our _talks_.”

* * *

Sigyn was waiting for him on their favorite terrace, just as he’d instructed her to.

She was leaning against the balustrade, her woolen shawl – the one he’d given her so long ago – draped across her shoulders to keep away the chill.

“Seeing you there, I’m reminded of night much like this one,” he said as he came closer. “A different birthday celebration…a dance…a kiss. That was you, wasn’t it? Or am I thinking of a different girl? There’ve been so many.”

“That’s very funny, Your Highness.”

“Now what did I say about you calling me that?”

She pulls him close, wrapping the two of them up in her shawl. “I don’t recall. Remind me.”

“I believe I said to call me Loki. Just Loki. And that I would make you scream it until you were hoarse if you needed help remembering.”

“That was much later. Not that night.”

“Oh, that’s right. _That_ night I was being a gentleman. Quite reluctantly, I might add.”

“Reluctantly?”

“Oh, yes. I would have bedded you that very night if my morals had allowed it.”

“You have a very interesting concept of morals, Loki. And had you bedded me that night, Ari would be that much older, and without my mother’s intervention.”

He tilts his head, his brow furrowed. “Then I should have done just that. How much better would everything have been for us?”

“Not better. Just different. Everything happened the way it was meant to happen, love. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I would.”

“Well, thinking on that for too long is just an exercise in futility. We’re here now, together. Just as we were all those years ago…with one particularly important difference.”

“And what’s that?”

“You have no need to be a gentleman with me tonight. In fact, I’m going to demand your most ungentlemanly behavior. Here’s what I want you to do…” She put her lips close to his ear, whispering in detail just exactly what she wanted.

Loki’s eyes grew steadily wider at her instructions, until finally he leaned back to take her in. “Do you have any idea what it does to me when you talk like that?”

“Mmmhmm,” she said, nodding slowly.

“Well then, unless you mean for me to start out here, I suggest we go back to our chambers at once.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

The months passed; it felt even faster to Sigyn the second time.

Loki’s protective behavior over her grew in direct proportion to her girth, until he was almost a constant fixture at her side, one hand on her back and one on her belly.

They were lying in bed the first time Loki felt the baby move, and in his joy, he unwittingly released a pulse of unrestrained magic strong enough to knock over an entire shelf of books in their chambers. She’d never seen him wear such a beautiful smile; it made her heart swell to see him so happy.

Much to Sigyn’s relief and delight, Loki’s physical desire for her never waned as the months wore on. She’d hoped he wouldn’t be repulsed by the changes in her body; but she was pleasantly surprised to find that if anything, he was even more fascinated with her, gentler even, more willing to find positions that were comfortable and pleasing for both of them in their lovemaking – which was a frequent as it had ever been.   

Loki was also more than happy to have Thor procure all the strange Midgardian foods she craved; boxes of sweet biscuits called Jaffa Cakes from England, a revolting concoction called “pimiento cheese” from the Southern United States, and above all, any and all kinds of curry, the spicier the better – but thankfully, never all at once. He didn’t know exactly who had introduced her to all of these foods, but he was more than willing to lay the blame at Stark’s feet.

One afternoon late in her pregnancy, Thor found Loki in the queen’s garden, watching as Ari and Sigyn gathered flowers.

“You know, brother, you are just as intolerable an expectant father as I knew you would be. Do you ever let her out of your sight?”

“Not if I can help it. It’s fortunate she hasn’t had a reason to travel to Midgard recently. I’m not sure they’d want me back there just yet.”

“Likely not,” said Thor, settling into a chair next to Loki. “I have news brother, and I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Stark finally met a painful and untimely end?”

“Ha, no.” His face turned serious. “I mean to ask Sif for her hand in marriage.”

“Hm. So she has finally forgiven you for that dalliance with Dr. Foster?”

“It was more than a dalliance, Loki. You know this. But as painful as it was, it was a mutual agreement to part ways. Jane is very happy now with her new husband.”

“And is that why you now wish to settle down yourself?”

“Perhaps it’s part of it. But if I’m to be entirely honest, I have to admit I’m more than a little envious of you and your family.”

“The mighty Thor, envious? Of me? You’ve no idea how happy that makes me.”

“I’m glad it pleases you, Loki.”

“And Sif…do you think she will accept your offer of marriage?”

“I believe she will. And one day she will make a fine queen for Asgard.”

“But not as good as Mother.”

“No. Never as good as her.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Thor spoke again. “When I am king, Loki, I would have you by my side as my advisor.”

“You trust me now, do you?”

“I trust your judgment,” he said, nodding toward Sigyn. “And I trust that you will make difficult decisions when I cannot. I need no answer today. I need only for you to think on it.”

“That, brother, is the least I can do.”

* * *

“Papa. Papa. Papa!”

Loki could feel Ari’s small cold hand on his cheek, gently prodding him to wakefulness. He opened his eyes to find his son at his bedside, eyes wide with worry in the early morning light. Instinctively, Loki reached for Sigyn, wondering why Ari hasn’t gone to her side of the bed instead, but his hand hit an empty pillow. He sat up quickly.

“What is it? Is it your mother?”

Ari rubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand, nodding in the affirmative. “She said she couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t either, so we were walking around for a little bit. She was taking me back to my room and then –“, he leaned in closely, as if sharing a particularly horrifying secret, “- she _wet herself_. She told me to come get you.”

Loki was up and out of the bed before Ari had finished the last sentence. He reached down and swung Ari up into his arms, noting with sadness that he wouldn’t be small enough to carry easily for much longer. “Will you take me to her?”

“Yes, Papa,” said Ari, laying his head on Loki’s shoulder with a yawn.

Sigyn had collapsed next to an alcove in the corridor, her eyes clamped shut and her hand gripping a column so tightly Loki could almost hear the stone cracking under her fingers. Her voluminous sleeping gown did nothing to hide her enormous belly. Ari’s nursemaid was crouched beside her.

“Mama, I brought Papa for you.”

“Oh, Ari, thank you darling,” she said, smiling weakly. “Will you do one last favor for me? Dalla will help you get dressed and take you to your Amma’s chambers. I need you to tell her it’s time for the baby.”

“But I’m really sleepy, Mama. I want to go back to bed.”

“You’ll do as you’re told,” said Loki, his nerves making his voice come out much harsher than intended. He backtracked at the hurt look in Ari’s eyes and tried again. “We need you to be a good helper, all right?”

Dalla took Ari’s hand. “I’ll let you choose your own clothes if you come without a fuss,” she said; this was all the incentive Ari needed to follow her away.

Loki lifted Sigyn gently, not caring that the bottom of her gown was soaked.

“Forgive me, love,” she said. “It didn’t happen like this with Ari… _ah_!”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said, carrying her back to their chambers as swiftly as he dared. Once there, he put her back in the bed and began pacing, anxious for someone to show up and tell him what to do next.

What seemed like an eternity later, there was a soft knock on the door; it opened before Loki could get to it.

“Your Highness?” said the healer as she peeked her head around the door. “May we come in?”

 _We?_ He had been expecting the healer alone – instead, when she walked in she was followed immediately by Frigga, her handmaiden, and Dagmar.

Frigga and Dagmar didn’t even acknowledge Loki’s presence, instead going straight to Sigyn, helping her change into a clean, dry gown and arranging her better in the bed where Loki had so unceremoniously dropped her.

The healer began preparing for the birth, laying out her instruments and settling at the foot of the bed. Loki looked around the room at the gathering crowd and decided he’d had enough.

“Thank you for your help – but as excited as we all are, I need to ask all of you to wait outside. Other than you, of course,” he added, nodding at the healer.

Everyone stopped in their tracks, turning to look at him with mouths agape.

Sigyn spoke up. “Can’t my mother at least stay?”

“No. _I’m_ staying in here with you.”

“Your Highness,” said the healer, the condescension in her voice not lost on Loki. “This is highly unusual. I’ve _never_ birthed a child with the father present.”

Loki whirled on her. “Well this will be your first time, then, won’t it?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea –“

“Find someone willing and capable of physically removing me, and I’ll go. Until then, I’m not leaving.”

The healer looked at the queen, wordlessly begging for her help in wrangling Loki out the door, but Frigga merely smiled at her and turned to Dagmar.

“Lady Sigmundsdottir, there’s a sitting room just down the hall. Why don’t we await the new arrival there? I’ll have Helga here arrange for refreshments from the kitchens.”

Dagmar looked at Sigyn. “Well, I suppose that will be all right, if you agree, dearest.”

“It’s fine, Mother,” said Sigyn. “The healer will take good care of me.”

“So will I,” said Loki, with just a tinge of petulance.

Sigyn flicked her eyes his direction before turning back to her mother. “The healer knows what she’s doing, Mother. We’ll be fine. Would you mind checking on Ari for me? He’ll be wondering what’s going on.”

“Absolutely,” said Dagmar, kissing Sigyn’s forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit, then.” She turned to follow Frigga and Helga, stopping just as she neared Loki.

“Good luck, Your Highness. Please, _try_ to be helpful.”

She was gone before Loki could form a decent reply.

* * *

Several hours later, Loki’s patience had run its course.

“What’s taking so long?” he asked the healer. “Isn’t there something you can do to move things along?”

“Your Highness, if I may be so bold,” said the healer, trying to disguise the rolling of her eyes, “perhaps you can put your considerable verbal skills to better use, and instead of berating _me_ , you can encourage your wife to breathe.”

“Breathe? I doubt very highly that she’s forgotten how to breathe –“ He turned to his wife as he spoke, dismayed to find her clutching the sheets, her face twisted in a grimace and her chest utterly still. He rushed to the bed.

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Sigyn… _breathe_ ,” he said, gently pushing a few stray hairs from her face.

She took a great gulp of air, expelling it with force before going completely still once more.

“By the Norns,” said Loki, removing his boots and climbing into the bed with her. “Keep breathing, love. Let me help.” He settled in behind her, his back against the headboard and her body caged between his legs.

He put his hands on her belly and conjured a basic spell to help ease her pain; he considered it nearly primitive in its simplicity, but its effect was immediate. Her body relaxed at once, her breath becoming more frequent, more even. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, her eyes shut…and after a moment, she slumped to the side.

Panic clawed at Loki’s gut. For one terrible moment, he feared he’d gone too far, done too much and hurt her or the baby. “Sigyn? Sigyn, darling…” He looked despairingly at the healer for guidance, and she put him at ease.

“She’s only asleep, Your Highness. I suggest you let her…she’s going to need her strength.”

* * *

Loki’s legs were completely numb by the time Sigyn stirred some time later; he hadn’t dared move for fear of disturbing her.

For a moment, she was disoriented, but Loki reassured her. “You’re fine, Sigyn. I’ve got you.”

“I think it’s time,” was her only reply.

The healer checked her once more. “Yes, my lady. Not long now.”

Loki thought he might vomit. Instead, he took a deep breath and buried his face in Sigyn’s neck, resuming his pain-easing spell. If he couldn’t see the agony on her face, then he could more easily pretend she wasn’t hurting.

Minutes – hours? – later, somewhere in the middle of Sigyn’s pained cries and right after he had been instructed to pull her legs out and back to ease the process, he realized the healer was asking him a question.

“Your Highness, the baby is crowning. Would you like to see?”

He kept his forehead on Sigyn’s shoulder, hoping the healer would take that as answer enough, but she mistakenly thought he didn’t hear her the first time. She asked again.

He raised his head momentarily, intending to make sure she understood in no uncertain terms that under no circumstances did he wish to see anything of the sort, when he unintentionally glanced down just long enough see Sigyn’s body stretched impossibly wide, the very top of a head visible, covered with hair the exact shade of the fire currently burning in their hearth. He was simultaneously horrified and utterly transfixed.

“That’s it, Sigyn,” he said, and his voice sounded very far away. “You’re nearly finished. You’re doing so well, beloved, so well.”

She bore down once more – making a sound Loki was fairly certain he’d never heard anyone make in his life, not even on a battlefield – and the head became shoulders and arms and body and legs, and the healer was suddenly holding a squirming, wailing, _absolutely perfect_ blue baby in her arms.

“It’s a boy. You have another son.”

The healer wiped him down quickly, wrapping him in a clean towel before passing him up to his breathless mother. Sigyn shakily cradled him to her chest, and Loki enfolded the two of them in his long arms. If either Sigyn or the healer took notice of him openly weeping, they had the kindness not to say anything.

* * *

It was late that evening when Loki brought Ari to meet the newest member of the family.

Sigyn was reclined on a pile of pillows in the middle of their bed, their new son sleeping peacefully on her chest. “Come here, my love,” she said, holding her hand out to Ari. “Come meet your baby brother.”

Loki put him gently on the bed, and he scooted as closely as he dared.

“What’s his name, Mama?”

“His name is Eiðr, darling. It means ‘oath’. Kind of like a promise.” The name had been Loki’s one and only choice, and Sigyn had not tried to dissuade him from it.

“He’s blue like me. That makes me happy.”

“It makes me happy, too.”

Ari reached tentatively to touch Eiðr’s head, just as gently as his father had instructed him to be. “His hair is different, though. It’s really bright.”

“It is, isn’t it? My grandmother had red hair, too. I think it suits him.”

“Can he play with me tomorrow? I can show him my favorite toys.”

“Maybe not _tomorrow_ , love, but soon. I promise.”

“Come here, little prince,” said Loki, lifting him from the bed and back to the floor. “It’s past time you were asleep…but I think there’s a special treat waiting for you in the kitchens, something they only make for big brothers. What do you say we leave these two to rest for now and go see what it is?”

Loki brushed his fingers across Eiðr’s tiny head before taking Sigyn’s hand in his. “Thank you,” he said simply, hoping she understood everything he was really trying to say.

“I love you,” she said. “Please don’t let him stay up too late. Dalla will never forgive you if you do.”

“Come _on_ , Papa,” said Ari, tugging at his hand.

They walked down the corridor, hand in hand.

“Do you think I’ll be a good big brother, Papa?”

“Oh, I think you’ll be the best big brother in all the nine realms.”

“Even better than Uncle Thor?”

“Infinitely better. But you must promise me something.”

“Promise you what?”

Loki stopped walking, kneeling down to look Ari in the eyes. “Promise me that you’ll always look after your baby brother. That no matter what happens, no matter what he does or says, that you will always love him and care for him. That you will always be there for him. It’s the most important thing a big brother can do.”

Ari nodded solemnly. “I promise, Papa.”

“Excellent. Now let’s go get your treat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure I gave myself several cavities with this chapter. :D
> 
> And yeah, yeah - I know their mythological kids' names are different. I'm not going to defend myself about it again (and there's a reason that will be more clear after the epilogue).
> 
> Epilogue will be posted this Thursday, with a super special bonus to be posted next Monday. Then it will be finished. And I will probably cry.


	42. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not putting it in the tags, but I feel I need to mention this Epilogue contains references to pregnancy loss/miscarriage, if that is a trigger for anyone. :(

* * *

It is forty-two years since what the Midgardians call the Siege of New York.

Forty-three years since Loki fell from the Bifröst; forty-four since he first laid eyes on his beloved outside his mother’s chambers.

Yet even after so long a time, for the Silvertongue, Sigyn will ever be that for which words fail him.

He is a man who delights in the chaos and uncertainty of the universe, yet to Loki, Sigyn is his one constant, the single fixed point around which every other part of his life revolves. His lover, his wife, his greatest champion.

She is called many things: Sigyn the Faithful. Esteemed ambassador of Asgard. Sister. Friend. Mother.

But for Loki, she is only Sigyn, and she is a perfect good.   

* * *

Since Odin’s passing twenty-seven years prior, Thor’s time as king has seen unprecedented growth and prosperity – though Sigyn’s tireless work as one of Asgard’s most trusted ambassadors can hardly be underestimated. She is honored and respected across the Nine Realms, yet at times it has been a struggle. Thor’s high regard and recommendation of her skills has certainly helped, but there are those who still cannot comprehend her choice of husband.

She has long ago stopped trying to justify herself to those who do not understand her love for Loki, despite everything he has done.

It isn’t hard for her to ignore most of the criticism lobbed her way – usually from people who aren’t close to her and her family, people who don’t ultimately matter – yet there is one whose unwavering negative opinion is a wound that has yet to fully heal.

Her brother Edmund makes no secret of his continued dislike of Loki. His wife Ingrid has worked hard to ensure their children together – two lovely daughters named Káta and Halldís – know their extended family. But Edmund remains steadfast in his displeasure, despite all of Sigyn’s efforts to convince him otherwise.

But she will continue to try, in the hopes that one day, they can make peace with one another.

She likens it to trying to describe to a small child how the Bifröst works – speaking slowly and using small words helps, but can never fully encompass the depth and breadth of something so wondrous as her love for her husband. Sometimes “it just… _is_ ” must be explanation enough.

* * *

It has been three grueling days of meetings with a delegation from Midgard, invited to Asgard by Thor himself. Generations of them come and go so quickly, each of them thinking they can improve on their predecessor’s achievements, and as a result the trade agreements between their realms are constantly being reviewed and examined. Sigyn has become an expert at appearing to give them what they want without actually changing anything. Flattery has always been the Midgardians’ weak point; they walk away feeling as though they have accomplished much, until their children come of age and the cycle starts anew.

Loki is welcome to join the negotiations, but he almost always declines, as he finds the Midgardians too tiresome and petty. Their most recent ancestors have taught them to fear him, and rightfully so, but he wearies quickly of toying with them. One day they will grow complacent, thinking his misdeeds only a myth, and his games will begin again…but for now, he bides his time.

The one time his presence is required is during the banquet given in the Midgardians’ honor the night before they return home. He is still a prince of the realm, and some duties are unchanging.

At dinner, he watches with amusement as the delegates try to hide their discomfort at his presence. He resists the urge to conjure spiders into their food; Sigyn would be displeased, as their sons are present and she has reminded him time and again to be on his best behavior when they are watching.

He shifts a single finger into his jotun form, stirring it in his wine to chill it. Beneath the table, he slips his other hand up Sigyn’s leg as she sits next to him, taking notice that she is drinking water. “No wine for you?” he asks.

“One of us needs to be in control of her faculties, love,” she says, nimbly blocking his hand before he can get too intimate with his clandestine exploration.

He chuckles, taking her hand in his instead. “You know, I’ve been unfailingly polite, and yet our guests still watch me as carefully as a mouse would a cat.”

“It’s because you’re smiling. It worries them when you smile.”

“Ah, they shouldn’t worry,” he says, leaning closer to her but keeping his face forward. One of the Midgardian delegate’s wives is seated directly across the table and can’t stop staring at him, her appearance alternating between paralyzed fear and outright lust. “I only smile because of the secret knowledge I hold.”

“Is that so?” Sigyn pushes her food around her plate with her fork, but doesn’t look at him.       

“Oh, yes. Knowledge for which any of our guests would pay a great price, and yet I would hold it close, even upon pain of death.”

“I see,” she says. “And as your wife, may _I_ be privy to this _secret knowledge_?”

“Of course. It is merely this,” he says, careful to keep his voice low,” – that the face _you_ put forward for them is but a façade, a carefully honed bit of trickery to rival even my own best work. And yet, the moment this intolerable dinner is over, I’m going to take you back to our chambers and fuck you senseless, until you’re writhing and moaning beneath me like the wanton minx I know you _truly_ are.”

Sigyn has spent years schooling her features into an appearance of indifference at his deliberate provocations, but he hears the catch in her breath and glances at her in time to catch the slightest flush of her skin at the neckline of her dress - the telltale signs that she wants him as badly as he wants her.

Her mouth turns up ever so slightly at one corner. “Hmmm. And what if I want _you_ beneath _me_?” she asks.

At this, Loki’s smile widens. The delegate’s wife squeaks, excusing herself and nearly bolting from the table.

* * *

The doors to their chambers have barely shut behind them when Loki magics away Sigyn’s clothing.

“You’d better be able to bring that dress back in one piece,” she laughs between kisses. “It’s one of my favorites.” 

“I’ll conjure a thousand dresses to replace it if I have to. But you know I prefer you like this.” He lifts her up and carries her to the bed, practically throwing her onto its surface.

“Darling, I know you’re eager, but be gentle with me.”

“What if I don’t want to be gentle?” he asks, his voice thick as he makes quick work of his own clothing. “What if I want to ravage you?”  

He swallows any answer she might have given with his mouth on hers, burying himself inside her without preamble, his skillful fingers finding every place on her skin that he knows drives her wild, and before long she is writhing and moaning beneath him, exactly as he knew she would be. He is nothing if not an expert at satisfying his wife.

He ensures they are both well pleased, and rests his forehead to hers, eyes closed and his body still trembling. “Beloved, you are magnif-“

“I’m pregnant.”

He waits a beat before replying. “So quickly? I’ve only just -“

“Seven weeks. I’m seven weeks pregnant.”

He raises his head from hers. “What? How?”

“Well, much like this,” she says, squeezing her legs together as he rests between them, “but seven weeks ago.” She is trying to make light of it, but she knows he is upset. She had hoped a post-coital conversation would soften the blow.

He stares at her long and hard, his mouth set in a thin line, before pulling himself from her body and flopping onto the bed beside her. After a moment, the heavy silence is more than she can stand.

“You’re angry.”

“It’s no wonder you’re such an excellent diplomat, Sigyn. Your observational skills are unparalleled.”

“There’s no need to be an ass.”

“We discussed this, Sigyn. At length, if memory serves. After…” He cannot bring himself to finish the thought, raising his hand to cover his eyes. “How?” he asks again.

“Any number of reasons, love,” she says, sitting up. “We take precautions, but short of a more permanent solution, the only way to ensure this couldn’t possibly happen would be abstinence. I don’t think either one of us could live with that.” She leans over him, moving his hand away from his face. “I choose to see this as a blessing.”

“It’s not much of a blessing when the danger is so great.” The mirth and mischief in his eyes are gone, replaced with worry. Her stomach twists at the sight.

“The greater the risk, the greater the reward.” It’s a trite thing to say, but she can’t think of anything better.

“I would sooner have Valhalla closed to me for eternity than risk losing you.”

She stops herself from pointing out that it is likely _already_ closed to him forever. “What would you have me do?” she asks instead. It is a rhetorical question, one she doesn’t expect him to answer – but when has Loki ever done what she expects?

“Does anyone else know?”

“No, I wanted to be sure first – “

“Go to the healer first thing in the morning and terminate it.”

She recoils from him in indignation. “You aren’t seriously asking me to do that.”

“I’m not _asking_.”

“I can’t do that. I _won’t_.”

He stares at the ceiling, unblinking.

“Please…talk to me, Loki.”

“What is there to discuss? Your mind is already made up.” He pushes her aside and rises from the bed, swiftly conjuring his clothing to his body and leaving the room without another word.

Sigyn does not try to follow him. He will return in his own time, as is his way, and she will wait patiently until he does. Loki is not one to be pushed, even by her. She lays back, her hand rubbing her belly anxiously.

* * *

_It was fourteen years after the Siege of New York._

_They were aware of the risks. They appreciated just how blessed Sigyn had been to carry Ari and Eiðr to term without complications for them or for her, given their mixed heritage. But Sigyn grew weary of being the lone female in a house full of men. She longed for a daughter, and so, they tried once more._

_It took no time at all for her to conceive; Sigyn had proved herself to be quite fertile, and Loki’s insatiable desire for her ensured there was no opportunity wasted. In this, her third pregnancy, it seemed they were to be doubly blessed; one of her early visits to the healer revealed twin heartbeats in her womb._

_She agreed to scale back her diplomatic duties – against Loki’s wishes that she cease them altogether and remain under his watchful eye until delivery – but she convinced him that some travel would still be required. In truth, though she would have never told Loki for fear he would misunderstand, she enjoyed the time away. He still hated to share her with anyone, and her duties were a welcome respite from his otherwise constant appropriation of her time._

_One morning not quite halfway through the pregnancy, Loki rose early, leaving Sigyn to rest. She and Ambassador Bjornson had returned from a journey to Midgard only the day before, a full day sooner than expected. She had been unusually irritable, retiring to bed not long after her arrival home. It had been a stressful trip, one she refused to discuss with him, which generally meant he had been a topic of conversation. For such short-lived creatures, the Midgardians certainly had long memories._

_He was nearly to the washroom before he felt the chill of something damp on his skin. Glancing down, he was stunned to see his left thigh covered in blood, still fresh and sticky. He wiped at it absentmindedly, certain he had no injuries, when his breath caught in his throat. He hurried back to the bed, pulling the sheets and furs back so forcefully it startled Sigyn awake._

_“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes going wide when she followed his horrified stare to the crimson soaked bed beneath her body._

_“Oh,” was all she managed to say._

_He fell onto the bed at once, summoning every incantation and spell he could think of to try to repair the damage –_ I can fix this, I need to fix this, please let me FIX THIS _\- before her calm voice finally broke through his keening whines._

_“Loki, stop,” she said, wiping the tears from his face while ignoring her own. “I need you fetch the healer. Can you do that for me? Please?”_

_He choked back a sob and nodded._

_When he returned with her not even fifteen minutes later, the healer barely examined Sigyn before pulling Loki aside. “I will make her comfortable, Your Highness, but it would be best if you waited outside.”_

_He stood firm, refusing to budge. “Absolutely not. How dare you even suggest-“_

_“Loki,” said Sigyn, and though quiet, the steel in her voice was enough to give him pause. “Listen to her. Ari and Eiðr might need you.”_

_Loki looked at her despairingly before allowing the healer to push him back into the corridor. His roar of frustration as the door clicked shut frightened a nearby housemaid badly enough to send her running for the king. Thor came at once, Sif at his side, both of them still dressed in their sleeping clothes and robes._

_Loki insisted Sif sit with Sigyn; he would not have his wife suffer alone if he was to be kept from her himself. He then spent the next hour pacing the hall, completely inconsolable, alternately plotting the violent deaths of any Midgardian who had dared cause this to happen and blaming his jotun physiology for allowing the risk to her; Thor – the mightiest king Asgard had ever known – could only look on in helpless wonder. Sigyn cried out only once (whether from sorrow or pain or some awful combination of both, Loki couldn’t tell) and were it not for Thor’s strength holding him back and his own grief-induced weakness, Loki would have reduced the entirety of the corridor to rubble._

_When the healer finally reappeared at the door, Loki shoved his way past her without a word, going straight to his wife and ignoring everyone else present. He took notice of two wrapped bundles lying near the healer’s tools, both unbearably small, and chose to ignore them, too._

_Sigyn was lying on the sofa in front of the fireplace, desolately staring into the flames. The bed had been stripped completely, the furs and sheets lying on the floor in a pile. Loki made a mental note to destroy everything before the day was out, bed included. He would have no reminder of this day in their chambers._

_Kneeling beside the sofa, he gathered Sigyn gently into his arms, listening carefully as Thor talked to the healer._

_“She returned from Midgard just yesterday. I must know…was this a deliberate act on their part?” asked the king, and Loki was grateful to hear the anger in his voice._

_“No, Your Majesty,” said the healer. “There’s not always a simple explanation for these things. But rest assured, whatever the cause, I have no reason to believe this was anything other than a terrible coincidence.”_

_Sigyn wept into Loki’s chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, again and again, a plea for absolution. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”_

_He pulled her in tighter._

* * *

Sigyn does not see Loki again for two days.

He could be anywhere at all, though past experience tells her he’s likely still on Asgard, brooding in one of his numerous secret sanctuaries. She knows of many of them, but she is positive he still keeps some hidden from everyone, including her.

The Midgardian delegation is concerned when he does not show up for their departure. They use a transportation vehicle – the seventh iteration of one designed by Stark Industries – to make their journey through the Bifröst easier, and when they reach the Observatory they make an obvious show of checking to be sure Loki isn’t hiding in it somewhere. She almost hopes he is, as then she would at least be assured of his well-being…but of course there is no trace of him.

As much as she hates to admit it, Loki’s absence does allow her to wrap up her work from the visit without interruption. Ari and Eiðr don’t question her as to their father’s whereabouts, and Sigyn is once again grateful that they never fear he will not return to them.

On her third night alone, hours after falling asleep, Sigyn awakens to her husband’s arms around her. His voice is mournful in her ear.

“Forgive me. I’m just so frightened.”

She spins in his embrace, burying her face into the open collar of his tunic. He smells of wind and fire and sweat and dirt, and she is drunk from it. “As am I. But we can manage together, don’t you think? Won’t it be worth it?”

He strokes her hair. “Beloved, you are _always_ worth it.”

* * *

Another year has come and gone.  

Five months have passed since Sigyn was safely delivered of a daughter, Unna. Her name means “contentment”, appropriate not only for her – for she is a very happy baby – but also for her parents. Loki insisted that Sigyn not travel at all during the pregnancy, and for once she offered no resistance to his demands. In reality, she was as fearful as he was, and they both shed countless tears of happiness and relief the day Unna was born.

Ari and Eiðr tolerate her presence, but are unimpressed with the uselessness of an infant. Yet when they think no one is looking, Sigyn has caught them watching over her as she sleeps, two young sentries prepared to fight anyone who dares to disturb the smallest of the family. They remind her too much of Edmund, and she makes a mental note to ensure Unna doesn’t tolerate any overbearing behavior from them.

Loki is completely smitten with her. Given the chance, he would perfect a spell that could allow him to nurse her himself, but Sigyn won’t permit it. She enjoys that part of motherhood too much to want to share; besides, it’s nearly the only time Loki will allow Unna out of his arms. It will be a miracle if her feet ever touch the ground.

When she was five weeks old, Loki was holding her in his lap when something remarkable happened. She smiled up at her father for the first time…and her appearance – her soft brown hair, and her skin, a jotun blue that matched her brothers’ perfectly – shifted to mirror Loki’s paler Aesir form, right down to the green eyes and black hair. Sigyn’s first instinct had been to accuse Loki of changing her.

“Why would you do that?” she’d asked angrily. “She’s beautiful the way she is.”

He’d looked up at her, his eyes wide. “I didn’t do it. _She_ did. Watch.” He’d shifted then to his jotun form, and at once, Unna’s appearance had reverted back. He’d laughed then, delighted that, at last, one of his children had inherited his aptitude for magic.

Sigyn is not quite as enthusiastic.

She knows that with Loki as a tutor, Unna will be the most troublesome of their children. She already dreads the inevitable day when he will set his most prized student upon the court of Asgard, to cause mischief and mayhem for her Uncle Thor, but for now Sigyn will revel in the calm beauty that is the baby at her breast.

“Is she finished?” asks Loki, hovering next to Sigyn as she nurses Unna in their bed. “She misses me. I can see it in her eyes.”

“Her eyes are closed, love. Now shush,” she says, waving him away. “She’s nearly asleep, and I won’t have you disturbing her.”

He doesn’t move, watching intently but remaining quiet. Unna’s tiny body finally relaxes, and her mouth goes slack, a thin string of spittle still tethering her to her mother’s breast. Loki reaches down and wipes it away, his finger lingering slightly longer than necessary on Sigyn’s nipple before gently scooping his daughter up into his arms.

Sigyn reaches to cover herself, but Loki stops her with a look. “Leave it. I’ll be right back.” He carries Unna to the adjoining room, settling her in her crib before returning to Sigyn, who is waiting for him right where he left her. She reaches out to him, and he goes to her.

His Sigyn…his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. I couldn't leave well enough alone, and had to add just a bit more angst/sadness - coupled with joy at the very end!
> 
> There are a few reasons I included the pregnancy loss - for one, it was a way for me to highlight that despite all the happiness Loki and Sigyn have achieved, there are still very real risks and heartaches that they face together. Emphasis on together. Also, this was my way to pay homage to their mythological children (who died very horrible, brutal deaths), while still allowing Loki and Sigyn, in this version, to have surviving children who grow up and have long, happy lives. These twins (boys, though it's never mentioned in the story) are absolutely meant to be Narvi and Vali.
> 
> This is in no way meant as any disrespect to those who currently and actively worship these deities - my characters are very clearly based on MCU-verse versions of these people...and in my opinion, the MCU characters are only tangentially related to the actual Norse gods at best.
> 
> The bonus chapter I'm posting on Monday, however, might just be the fluffiest, sappiest thing I've ever written. So there's that.


	43. Bonus - The Lonely Prince

Loki has found that keeping his seven-year-old daughter’s attention through her magic lessons is far more difficult than he would like.

_Perhaps I should get her a tutor_ , he thinks for the seventeenth time in as many days – and just as quickly dismisses the thought. _No. If she’s going to learn, she’ll learn from the best._

They are practicing in the sitting room of his family’s wing of the palace, as Unna is less anxious and less prone to magical accidents in the comfort of their home. He has just decided to move on from her unsuccessful attempts at conjuring spoons – no knives yet, Sigyn has insisted, not until she’s _much_ older – when Unna informs him that she needs a break…and he needs a new hair style.

He only pretends to resist as she pushes him into a nearby chair and begins to transform his hair into complicated braids.

“Tell me a story, Papa.”

“A story?” asks Loki, trying not to wince when she pulls a strand of his hair particularly hard. “What would you like to hear? A tale to make you smile? Cry? Something to frighten you?”

His hands strike out like a viper, tickling Unna’s belly until she dissolves into laughter. “All of it, Papa!” she squeals.

“So, you want a happy, sad, scary story?”

She nods vigorously, her fingers resuming their steady work.   

“All right then,” he says, thinking for a moment. “Ah, I have just the story. Once upon a time, there was a lonely prince –“

“What’s the story called?”

“It doesn’t have a name.”

“All _good_ stories have a name, Papa.”

He sighs in exasperation. “All right. Uh, let’s call it…’The Lonely Prince’.”

“’The Lonely Prince’?” she asks, looking at him skeptically. “That doesn’t sound very happy. Or scary. Just sad.”

“Do you want to hear it or not?”

“Yes, yes –“

“Then let me tell it, little dove. No more interruptions. Once upon a time –”

“You already said that!” she blurts out.

“– there was a lonely prince,” he finishes, arching his eyebrow at her.

“I’m sorry. Keep going.”

“Now, the prince was lonely – but he wasn’t alone. He had his parents and his older brother. His father, the king, used up all of his love on the older prince, who was to become king himself one day. The lonely prince adored his older brother, and for a time, they were inseparable, spending hours together and with their friends on countless adventures. But the queen, his mother – she was a patient and gentle soul, and she loved him best of all.”

Unna drops her hands, the final braid forgotten. “Like Mama?”

“Yes, just like your mama.” Loki gathers her into his lap before continuing. “But there was still something missing in the prince’s heart, and he didn’t know what it was or how to fix it. And he was afraid he would never figure it out.”

Unna pokes her bottom lip out, her brows wrinkled together. “Did he ever figure it out?”

“Now don’t get ahead of me, little dove. As it happened, his mother the queen was in need of a new handmaiden. She spoke to dozens of girls, all of them poised and eager…but one girl in particular stood out amongst all the others. The queen knew, from the very moment she met her, that this girl was what was missing from the prince’s life. That she was destined to bring him the happiness he so desperately sought.”

Unna thinks on this. “Mama says we don’t have destinies. She says we have to work hard to get the things we want.”

“Your mother doesn’t always know what she’s talking about.” Unna’s eyes go wide at his impertinence, and he chuckles. “And don’t you dare tell her I said that.”

She shakes her head. “I won’t.”

“Besides, this is my story – and in _my_ story, everyone has destinies.”

“So, did the queen introduce the prince to the girl, and they lived happily ever after?”

“You would think so, wouldn’t you? But you would be wrong.”

“But you said she was destined –“

“Yes, she was…but she was _stubborn_. The prince tried everything he could to gain her attentions and court her properly, but she barely acknowledged him. He knew they belonged together, but he didn’t know what else to do to convince her.”

“Oh no!”

“The queen, she could sense that the prince was close to giving up, that he was beginning to fear he would die alone. So she took matters into her own hands and encouraged the girl to give the prince a chance. And finally – _finally_ – she did, on the night of the queen’s birthday celebration.”

“Did they fall in love?”

“Oh, yes. Desperately in love.”

“And did he _kiss her_?” she asks, the last few words barely more than a whisper.

Loki’s smile is deceptively innocent. “As often as he could.” _And much, much more than that_ , he thinks, but keeps to himself.

Unna’s face lights up. “And then they got married?”

“Well…no. Not right away.”

Her face falls. “I don’t like this story.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake – it isn’t over yet.”

“I hope it has a happy ending.”

“It does. But a happy ending doesn’t mean the beginning and the middle were easy.”

“If you say so. What happened next?”

“Well, for a time, the prince and the girl were as content as they’d ever been; he didn’t even think of himself as lonely anymore. And he decided that he never wanted to be without her again, and that he was going to ask her to marry him.”

“And did she say yes?”

“He never got the chance to ask her. One day something terrible happened, and the prince’s life changed forever. You see, he discovered that he wasn’t who he thought he was. He _was_ a prince, but he had been stolen as a baby from a neighboring kingdom, a kingdom he had been raised his entire life to hate and fear. He was a _monster_.”

Unna gasps. “But what about the girl?”

“He was terrified she would hate him for what he really was. He couldn’t bear to lose her that way, so instead of telling her the truth, he ran far, far away – from her, from his family, from everything. So far away everyone thought he’d died.”

“So…he broke his true love’s heart?”

“Yes. But his heart was broken, too. He thought he would go mad from the pain, but he learned to ignore it. In his desperation, he fell in with criminals, and they forced him to do terrible things just to survive. But no matter how far he fell, there was always the tiniest sliver of hope in his heart, hope that one day he could again be the good man he’d once been.”

“You said this story has a happy ending, Papa.” 

“I’m getting there. Eventually, the prince’s older brother got word of a war in a far-off land, and he learned that his little brother, whom he had feared dead for so long, was not only _alive_ , but leading an enemy force. He came to find him – to bring him home where he belonged. But the lonely prince fought him, convinced he no longer had a home.”

“He fought his brother?”

“Yes, and his brother’s new friends – a metal man, a giant green ogre, a tiny spider woman, a deadly archer, and a nearly indestructible warrior. Together, they were too much for the lonely prince to defeat. And when the fighting was over, the lonely prince’s older brother took him home.”

“And did he see the girl again?”

“He did, even though he was still afraid she would hate him for what he really was. But do you know what happened?”

Unna’s green eyes go wide with anticipation. “What?”

“She told him she didn’t care where he was from, or what he looked like. She had fallen in love with who he was on the inside. His heart,” he says, putting a finger on her chest, “and his mind,” he finishes, touching her head. “Nothing else mattered. But…fortunately for her, he _was_ devastatingly handsome.”

“As handsome as you, Papa?”

“No. No one’s as handsome as I am.”

“And _then_ they got married?”

“Yes, then they got married, had fifty-seven children, three ponies and a milk cow, and lived happily ever after.”

“That was a good story after all, Papa.” She clasps her hands together, gasping with the excitement of a sudden idea. “I know! Let’s have a pretend wedding! You’ll be the lonely prince, and I’ll be the girl!”

“And what about me?”

Loki looks up to find Sigyn standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest and an exaggerated look of concern on her face.

“Mama!” cries Unna, jumping from Loki’s lap to sprint across the room into her mother’s embrace. Sigyn swings her up into her arms with ease. “Oh, Mama – it won’t be a _real_ wedding.”

“What a relief,” says Sigyn with a dramatic sigh, her hand on her chest. “I was worried I was going to have to find a new husband.”

“You’re silly,” says Unna with a giggle.

“I _am_ silly. I tell you what,” says Sigyn, setting Unna back onto the floor. “The daisies are blooming in your grandmother’s garden. I’m certain if you ask her nicely, she’ll give you some for your wedding bouquet.”

“All right…I’ll be back, Papa!” She is a raven-haired streak as she dashes away and out the door.

“Those braids suit you,” says Sigyn, sauntering across the room to her husband.

He waves his hand, and his hair is once again sleek and unbound. “I’ll remember that next time I’m to be seen in public. How long were you standing there?” he asks, pulling her to him.

“Oh, long enough to be quite impressed with your revisionist history.”

Loki tilts his head, incredulous. “Revisionist history? It was merely an account of a lonely prince, and the girl who toyed with his feelings, ensnaring him with her guile and feminine charm. A tragedy, really.  A cautionary tale.”

“It would have been equally impressive had you told it correctly.”

“I told it exactly as I remember it.”

“It’s not how I remember it.”

“Memory is a funny thing, isn’t it?” he asks, his hand straying to the laces on the front of Sigyn’s gown.

“What a cad,” she says, feigning shock. “Whatever will your new fiancée think when she finds you’ve already been unfaithful to her?”

“She need never know. If we hurry, we can be finished before she returns.”

“Maybe _you_ can.”

“Now that’s just hurtful. I may be a cad…but have you ever known me to leave you wanting?” He dips his head to run his lips across her collarbone. “I’ll just seal the door –“

“ _Seal the door?_ You know as well as I do that sealing the door won’t stop her from coming back in. Or have you forgotten how shocking it can be to have your tiny, magic-wielding daughter announce her presence in your supposedly _locked_ bedroom by grabbing your foot and asking why her mother is sitting on you…and why you’re both naked?”

He can’t help but smile into her neck before raising his head to look at her. “Not our finest moment, to be sure…but I’ve since fortified that spell. She shouldn’t be capable of breaking it for at _least_ another six or seven months.”

“How wonderful. I anxiously await the day when we no longer have any privacy at all.”

“Well we have privacy right now – and I’ve learned to take opportunities when they’re presented, lest they disappear forever.” He looks at her in that way he has perfected, that pleading look that he is all too aware will eradicate the last of her resistance.

She sighs. “You’re going to make this up to me later.”

He responds by pulling her in tighter, his mouth hungry on hers. He has successfully navigated his way into the bodice of her dress, and just as his hand cups her breast, another voice pierces the air.

“By the Nine – don’t you two ever give it a rest?”

“I thought you were going to seal the door,” says Sigyn, looking past Loki to see their eldest son standing in the doorway, his hands on his hips, uncomfortably staring at the floor.

“Ari,” says Loki, glancing over his shoulder, “if you don’t wish to learn exactly how you and your siblings were conceived, then I suggest you intercept your sister when she comes back this way. Keep her occupied for the next five minutes –“

“Five minutes?” says Sigyn, unamused.

“ _Ten_ minutes – keep her occupied for ten minutes, and I will personally make your excuses for the next three family dinners with your uncle.”

“Make it _five_ dinners, and I’ll do it.”

Unna runs in before Loki can respond, a daisy crown on her head to match the bouquet in her hands. “Oh, Ari – would you like to be in the wedding, too?”

“Wedding?”

“Yes, Papa and I are having a pretend wedding…” She launches into a description of her plans, Ari kneeling down and patiently listening to every word – but making no move to leave with her.

Sigyn surreptitiously removes Loki’s hand from her breast and rearranges her gown – thankful that Loki’s body has hidden their actions from Ari and Unna’s view.

“We’ll try again later,” she says when he tries to object.

He shakes his head in frustration. “When did I completely lose control over my life?”

“The day you met me,” she says with a smile. “My _lonely prince_.”

* * *

The “marriage” is exceptionally short-lived.

Eiðr returns from sparring practice in the middle of the ceremony, reeking of sweat and sporting half a dozen new scrapes and bruises, his flame-colored hair plastered to his head.

“Mother, I can’t find my healing ointment –“ He stops short at the spectacle before him – his baby sister in her finest gown and their father kneeling beside her, a crown of daisies in his hair, his mother and brother looking on as if the whole thing is an everyday occurrence. “What’s all this?”

“Papa and I are getting married!” exclaims Unna, her face beaming.

Eiðr is appalled. “That’s ridiculous, Unna. You can’t marry your own _father_. Papa says they only do that sort of thing on Midgard.”

“Does he now?” says Sigyn, leveling a look at Loki that says they’ll be discussing that later.

Unna squares her shoulders in indignation, and before Loki can stop her, she blasts Eiðr with a rudimentary spell that seals his mouth shut.

When Loki – who has raised his voice to Unna a grand total of three times in her life, each with disastrous results – has the audacity to scold her for using her magic skills inappropriately, she whirls on him.

“I don’t want to be married to you anymore _anyway,_ Papa!” she whines, right before throwing her bouquet aside and flinging herself out the door in tears.

Loki doesn’t even flinch. “Well, thank the Norns for that,” he says under his breath, but not so low that Sigyn can’t hear him. ”I can barely handle one wife, much less _two_.”

* * *

“I’m so sorry your wedding didn’t turn out as you planned,” says Sigyn later that evening as she’s tucking Unna into bed. Any other night her nursemaid would be the one handling this particular duty, but Sigyn feel that she and Loki taking over the job for one evening might be an extra balm on their daughter’s hurt feelings.

“Tell me about _your_ wedding, Mama,” says Unna. “Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”

Sigyn considers her words carefully, her face giving nothing away, and it pains Loki to see her use her well-honed diplomatic skills on their own daughter. “Oh, darling,” she says finally. “Some of my most favorite people in all the nine realms were there. And your father…he was the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on. I couldn’t believe how fortunate I was, for him to choose _me_ as his bride.”

Unna sighs happily, her eyelids drooping. “I bet you were the most beautiful princess ever, Mama.”

“She was,” interrupts Loki, his voice cracking around a lump in his throat that threatens to choke him. “She still is. Well, save for you, of course.”

“I’m glad you married each other,” says Unna. “You would be awfully sad if you didn’t have me and Ari. But I bet you wouldn’t miss Eiðr very much.”

“That’s not very kind, darling. I wouldn’t want to be without _any_ of you,” says Sigyn. “Now get some rest.” 

“Sleep well, little dove,” says Loki, kissing Unna on the top of her head. “And dream about the lonely prince and his true love.”

* * *

They are preparing for bed when he finally speaks.

“Why did you lie to her?”

Sigyn’s brush stops mid-stroke through her hair. “What are you talking about?”

“Why did you lie to Unna about our wedding?”

Sigyn looks at him in her vanity mirror as he sits on the edge of their bed, watching her closely.

“I didn’t lie to her, Loki. Every word I said was true.”

“But a highly _abridged_ version of the truth. ‘Revisionist history’, I believe you would call it.”

She puts her brush down with a sigh, spinning on her stool to face him directly. “And what good would it do to tell her the entire truth when it doesn’t change the outcome? We said our vows. We were bound with a witness. You are still my husband, and I am still your wife – regardless of where or how our wedding occurred.”

“I married you in a dungeon cell, with my brother as sole spectator. None of your family was there. I’ll never pretend to fully know your mind, but I don’t imagine that’s how you envisioned your wedding as a child.”

She stands up, crossing the room to hold his head in her hands, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. “Well, I never envisioned I’d be marrying a prince, either. Or that one day, I would have two little princelings and a princess of my own. I still think I came out ahead in the end.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“No, I’m trying to get into your breeches.” She slides a single finger down his chest. “Is it working?”

He answers by grabbing her waist, throwing her to the bed and pressing his body between her open knees.

She giggles as he nudges into her neck with his nose and traces her steadily increasing pulse with his lips. “I’ll take that to mean _yes_.”

His hands are under her robe then, and she only has a moment to remind him to seal the door before all coherent speech is forgotten.

* * *

For the next several weeks, Loki is frequently and conspicuously absent for hours, sometimes _days_ at a time. When Sigyn asks about his activities, however, his answer is always the same – _nothing nefarious, beloved, don’t worry_ – followed by a grin that makes her question her decision to ever trust him with anything.

She briefly considers being concerned, but decides against it. This time, she’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.

* * *

Breakfast, typically eaten in their chambers, is never the same without Loki.

He has been gone for two days. The room is too quiet, too empty without his presence – every tiny sound bouncing off the walls until she’s nearly frantic with the yearning for _anyone’s_ company. She wonders idly if he misses her as much when she’s away. She hopes he does.

Loki is an early morning riser, awakening before the sun has fully risen without fail; Sigyn’s one joy in his absence is that she can indulge in sleeping a little longer than usual without feeling guilty. The kitchen staff knows to bring her breakfast a little later when he’s gone, a fact for which she is immensely grateful.

There is a knock on the door mid-morning, just as she’s finishing the last of her meal and putting aside the list of daily tasks she’s written out for herself; however, instead of a kitchen worker coming to collect her dishes, it is Unna’s little face that peeks around the open door.

“Good morning, Mama. There’s something here for you.” There is a pitch to her voice, unmistakable – the hum of barely-contained excitement.

“What is it, darling?” Sigyn asks as she goes to her.

Unna pushes the door open further, revealing an enormous box sitting on the floor just outside the threshold. Sigyn recognizes the distinctive pattern on the outside as the hallmark of Ranka, her favorite dressmaker.

“That’s odd,” she says, knowing she hasn’t commissioned anything recently. She lifts it up, surprised at the weight of it. She carries it to the bed, Unna following close behind.

“Did you see anyone leave it outside?”

“Um, yes.” She’s got the look of a child trying desperately to keep a secret.

“Who was it?”

“He told me to tell you there’s a note in the box.”

“Who did?”

Unna merely blinks at her.

“All right, stay quiet then,” says Sigyn, opening the top of the box. Sure enough, there is an envelope just under the lid, three words written across the front in handwriting she would recognize anywhere.

_My Beloved Sigyn._

She takes a deep breath and breaks the seal.

_There are two gowns in this box, one for you, and one for Unna. I trust the size difference will be enough to determine which belongs to whom._

_You have two hours to prepare. Unna has instructions on what to do when you are ready._

_Forgive my recent secretiveness. All will be revealed soon._

_Loki_

The first gown she removes is ivory, very small, with cap sleeves and a full skirt. There are touches of silver and gold in the fabric, and it shimmers as she moves it in the light.

“I believe this one is yours, my darling princess,” says Sigyn.

Unna holds her hands out, her eyes as wide as saucers. She holds it very gently when Sigyn places it in her arms. “It’s so _pretty_.”

“I need you to have Dalla help you prepare for…whatever we’re supposed to be preparing for,” she says. “The mystery delivery person didn’t happen to tell you what we’re doing, did he?”

She shakes her head a little too vigorously, and Sigyn thinks if she pressed a little harder, she would rupture and spill like a sack of grain. She takes pity on her.

“Well, run along then and get ready. I’ll let you know when I’m finished, and you can take me wherever you were instructed to.”

She is already moving. “Yes, Mama!” she calls over her shoulder.

Sigyn turns back to the box, removing the second gown.

The greater part of it is made of the same ivory fabric of Unna’s dress, floor length and abundant, with layers of sheer organza covering the top of the skirt. The bodice is covered in embroidered roses, each of them painstakingly detailed and accented with tiny leaves of light green – the only other color anywhere on the gown.

It is, quite simply, the most exquisite piece of clothing she has ever laid eyes on.

“Oh Loki,” she says, nearly under her breath. “What have you done?”

* * *

Two hours later, and with the help of a couple of handmaidens, Sigyn has been transformed – her hair elaborately braided and pinned, and the gown falling from her shoulders like a second skin. It couldn’t fit more flawlessly if she’d personally been measured for it. She will never again doubt Loki’s attention to detail – _or_ how well he knows her body.

Unna returns to her door as promised, equally transformed. She gasps when she sees Sigyn in her gown.

“Oh, Mama! You _are_ the most beautiful princess ever!”

“I don’t know about that, my darling girl. I think you’re even more beautiful.”

Unna spins, the skirt of her dress flaring out. “Do you think so?”

“Absolutely. Now where are we going? Is there a party I don’t know about?”

Unna grasps her hand and pulls her toward the door. “Just come on!”

They make their way down the familiar corridors of the palace, and Sigyn suspects at once where they are headed. Halfway to their destination, there is another waiting for them: a red-headed prince dressed in his finest attire.

“Oh, Eiðr, my handsome boy,” she says. “I haven’t seen you dressed this nicely in ages. Someone must have bribed you.”

He grins at her, shifting uncomfortably in his restrictive clothes – the black and brown pleated fabrics and leather meant to reflect his father’s formal dress without being perfect copies. “I don’t mind. Just this once.” He scowls down at his sister. “Go on, then – it’s my turn to walk with her.”

Unna sticks her tongue out at him before sprinting away.

Eiðr holds his arm out for his mother, the very picture of a gentleman. She takes it, and they continue on.

“So, do _you_ know what’s going on?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says. “But I’ve been told that if I tell you, my mouth will be sealed shut for a full day. I’m not going to risk that.”

“Probably for the best,” Sigyn says. The walk along, discussing Eiðr’s recent sparring victories and the armor she and Loki are having made for him – each step taking them closer to the queen’s gardens, just as Sigyn has guessed.

Just before they arrive, there is one last person waiting for her: her raven-haired eldest son, Ari.

“I’ll see you inside, Mother,” says Eiðr, kissing her on her cheek and leaving them to each other’s company.

Ari’s attire is almost an exact replica of Loki’s, with one crucial difference – instead of green accents, Ari’s are blue, just like his skin. Frigga has told her repeatedly that he’s the mirror image of his father when he was an adolescent.

“So Ari, my darling boy. I think I’ve figured out what’s going on.” She feels the sting of a tear in her eye, blinking it away before it can fall.

“Father said you probably would. He says you’re almost as smart as he is.”

“Don’t believe that,” she says with a grin. “I’m far smarter. But this time… _this_ time, I think he’s managed to surprise me.” She glances at the doors that open onto the gardens. “How many people are in there?”

“Not too many. Family, friends, a few diplomats from other realms. Nothing excessive.”

“Your father and I have very different definitions of _excessive_.”

“But you and I don’t. It’s truly very modest – especially for Father.”

“He’s been very busy, hasn’t he?”

“Yes. All for you.”

She blinks once…twice…and then her breath is too fast and she can no longer hold back her tears and her hands are shaking and _it’s too much, it’s just too much_ –

“No! No, no, no,” says Ari, and he pulls a handkerchief from somewhere to dab it on her cheeks. “Don’t do that. Father will never forgive me if you walk in there a sobbing mess. The guests will think you’re going to your execution, not your _wedding_.”

She laughs, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths and calm down. “I don’t suppose he would appreciate that, would he? Not after he’s gone through all this trouble.”

He gives her a moment to compose herself before holding his arm out to her. “Are you ready, Mother?”

She nods. “I’m ready.”

* * *

Everything after is a blur.

Sigyn recognizes a few faces in the crowd as Ari accompanies her to a small dais in the center of the garden. Edmund and Ingrid with their daughters. Her mother Dagmar and Ambassador Bjornson. Her nephew Magni and niece Torunn with their mother, Sif. The Warriors Three. Her beloved second mother, Frigga. Everyone she cares for and loves.

But then, she sees Loki waiting for her, glorious in his formal armor and jotun skin, and everyone and everything else disappears.

Thor presides over the ceremony, and it is much like it was the first time: vows of devotion and protection, an exchanging of rings, their hands bound together – this time with the royal family’s binding cloth instead of her hair.

She won’t remember any of it later. She will only remember the way Loki looks at her, in reverence and wonder, as though he can’t quite believe she’s agreeing to this a second time, and in front of witnesses.

Then it’s over, and he’s kissing her, and it’s better than any wedding in her wildest imagination.

* * *

After, there is a feast, and dancing, and merriment. Loki hasn’t missed a single detail.

Between songs, Frigga pulls Sigyn aside.

“You know,” says the dowager queen, “Had I known sooner what a difference you would make in Loki’s life, I would have pushed for your appointment as my handmaiden years earlier.”

“And I would have served you honorably, Your Majesty,” says Sigyn.

“He’s worked so hard these past weeks, preparing this day for you. I asked him what motivated him to do such a thing, and he would only say ‘I can’t fix everything, but I can fix this’.”

“You must know, I’ve never felt anything needed fixing.”

“I know, dearest,” says Frigga, patting Sigyn on the cheek. “But I appreciate your approval of his efforts. He was positively childlike in his enthusiasm.”

“I can only imagine.” Sigyn glances through the crowd, searching for her husband, and when she finds him, she’s shocked at what she sees.

He is talking to Edmund, and surprisingly, there is no animosity on either of their faces. Sigyn would describe it more as _grudging acceptance_ , but acceptance nonetheless. It’s still a victory, and she has long ago learned to never refuse one when it’s offered.

Loki clasps Edmund’s hand in a manner more suggestive of friends than enemies – and as far as she can tell, neither of them tries to produce a hidden knife and stab the other into oblivion – and then Loki turns and catches her watching. With the smallest of smiles, he makes his way through the crowd to her.

“Mother,” he says, nodding to Frigga, “may I steal my bride away from you for a moment? She still owes me a dance.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, taking Sigyn’s hand in his and leading her away just as the next song begins.

He pulls her close. “Are you pleased?”

“I was never displeased, love. But this…forgive me, I’m still a little stunned.”

“Stunned is better than _angry_.”

“I would never be angry with you – not for this, anyway. Other things, perhaps, but not this.”

He runs his finger across one of the flowers on her dress. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”

“Are you now? I feel so privileged.”

“When we returned from Midgard all those years ago, when my chambers were unsealed for us? I found a scrap of fabric under my wardrobe. The single remaining piece of the dress you wore the day of Thor’s original coronation – the one that _would_ have been your wedding gown, had things gone according to plan.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m completely serious. I’ve kept it all these years – for what purpose, I don’t know. A manner of mental torture, perhaps? A daily reminder of all the ways I’ve failed you?”

She frowns at him.

“I’m not telling you this to upset you. I’m telling you this to let you know – when I commissioned this dress, I had the dressmaker use that fabric for the leaves of these roses. As a way to honor our painful past…while still moving forward to our future.”

“I…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

“How about this? I love you, now more than ever.”

“And I love you. There’s more, you know. I’ve made all the arrangements – this evening, you and I are leaving for a week’s time, just the two of us. Consider it a horrendously delayed honeymoon.”

“Better than Stark Tower?”

He rolls his eyes. “ _Far_ better.”

“What about the children?”

“Don’t worry about them – they will be well cared for in our absence.”

“Where are we going?”

“Exactly where I meant to take you the night of Thor’s first coronation. A place where there will be no need to seal doors or be quiet or worry about interruptions. A place where I can take my time worshiping every single inch of your body – repeatedly and at length.”

She bites her lip in anticipation. “Will you allow me to pack a bag first?”

“No need. I’ve already taken care of that as well. Admittedly, it’s a very _small_ bag. You won’t be needing much.”

“Well, I look forward to your repeated and lengthy worship. Rest assured…I _will_ repay you in kind.”

He dips his head to kiss her, gently but firmly, and when he pulls away, there are tears shimmering in his eyes. “Sigyn, I’m sorry,” he says.

These are not words easily spoken by Loki, and for a moment, she is speechless. “For what?” she asks when she finally finds her voice.

“For everything. For all the pain I’ve ever caused you, unwittingly or otherwise. You never deserved any of it, and I certainly don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I will take it as it’s offered, and vow to do better by you and our children, until my last breath.”

“It’s all forgiven, love. All of it.”

“Thank you, beloved.”

“So, is this how the story ends? ‘The Lonely Prince’?

“Not lonely anymore, and no. _This_ …this is merely the beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. The final chapter of Illusion. 
> 
> Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart, anyone who has ever read, reviewed, favorited, kudoed, or simply just read and enjoyed and and/or all parts of it. Those readers I've lost along the way, the new ones I've picked up mid-story, and most especially...those who have been with me from the beginning, and who have stuck with me all the way through. You all know who you are. Don't think I haven't noticed or appreciated. :)
> 
> This story may be over...but this won't be the last you see of these characters or this world I've built for them.
> 
> Thank you to einarsdatter for her late-term beta services and her ability to spot an incorrect usage of a semicolon from a mile away.
> 
> But mostly, thank you to latessitrice for your guidance, your constructive criticism, your commentary, but mostly, for your friendship. I could have written this (or more accurately, something) without you, but it would have been terrible. :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [When You Let Her Go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/937932) by [h_lokidottir (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/h_lokidottir)




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